Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Wednesday, January 14, 2004

Projecting Our Lives Down To This Planet Earth

I left the notebook at work that fateful December night. Others began using it for helpdesk notes almost immediately. I hardly used ye, notebook.

I have nonetheless saved fragments of thoughts and catchy lines on scraps of paper that litter my bedroom floor. I can blindly reach out and grab an old thought whenever I want, and they drift around the carpet like tumbleweed through the old west.

I've done nothing with myself lately. Lots of movies and games and useless crap, but not much socialization or leisure away from my home. I need to get out more. I feel cut off.

I did go out for a New Year's party at a friend's. I drank too much, as usual, but that's no surprise or cause for concern. I tried snorting ketamine for the first and last time. That's a bad idea after a twelve pack and assorted jello shots. Not to mention the dixie cup full of $300 champagne at midnight. K slo-mo'd me and I couldn't walk without swinging myself around like a rubberlegged cartoon sailor. Talking was possible but inadvisable. I couldn't hear myself speak, so I was very loud. I ended up yelling at somebody for not stashing their booze in the trunk when leaving. He put it in the passenger seat. On New Year's Eve. Open. Jackass.

I read lots of journals here, far more regularly than I post. I don't message or interact with anybody here much anymore, but I do enjoy your contributions. Thanks.
8:07 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm


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