I never get any damned sleep. It's my own fault, of course, but something's got to give... I need sleep...
"Hello, Helena, it's me... I'm calling. Like I said I would. But you're not around. Well, it's about ten to nine, and uh, you know, gimme a call if you get this message, maybe we could just watch some "Twin Peaks" or whatever... Hang out... Make some crazy love... You know, whatever... Okay, gimme a call. Bye."
Ah, fuck sleep.
Cannot believe how much my life has changed in a matter of a few days.
Dear Mom... I'm dating a 27-year-old bisexual musician with beautiful eyes... Either talk me out of it, or congratulate me... It's too early to tell which is in order, although I suspect it's the latter... Love, Helena.
Have been able to think of nothing but Norman for days... Well, Norman and my never-ending quest to create the world's perfect home-made aranciata.
Speaking of creating things, I have created two unspeakably awesome drinks in the past week or two... One is called the "Aquaman," (or the "Jones Beach," which is the same thing, only with skim milk) and the ingredients are secret, but it's developed a small cult-following with which I am very pleased. The other is a strawberry limonata, which doesn't have a name yet. My goal is to create an entire menu of Helenadrinks. I have yet to discover the ultra-secret recipe for the so-called "Christmas Drink," which is the best damned creation I ever had, but I'm close -- very close.
Wow, I'm such a dork.
Think I am going to go to my kitchen, invent a drink, take a long, hot bubble bath and just read and sip for awhile...
~Helena*
"Wow, this is an Aquaman? Helena! This tastes like Jones Beach! I mean, EXACTLY like Jones Beach! I mean, that's a good thing! I don't mean it tastes like a mouthful of sand... I mean, this tastes like my home... I'm so nostalgic right now I'm almost ready to cry!" --Chris