Inner Voice 1, immediately after taking the first pull in weeks from ther dab rig: “She AGREED to it! How is this NOT her fault?” Inner Voice 2: “You mean it ISN’T our fault all this happened?” Inner Voice 1: “Dude. You warned her about what the fucking cat needed. You told her she was… Continue reading My Last Spoon
Tag: intoxication
EMFUCKINGBODIED
I swear I just saw myself for the first time I told myself in the mirror As I cried after connecting so incredibly profoundly with multiple people (And once again meeting another incredible man I can’t have in my life like I would prefer, god damn stupid growth opportunities) “You are.. An amazing woman. And… Continue reading EMFUCKINGBODIED
Solidarity
I had a get last night. A pretty big one. A few of them really, but one in particular that brought about a bit of an ‘ugh’ along with the ‘ah ha!’. It came about while reading the rather surprisingly amazing comments on this post, about a female artist who creates a series of self… Continue reading Solidarity
If London is a watercolor, New York is an oil painting.
“For in that city there is neurosis in the air which the inhabitants mistake for energy.” ― Evelyn Waugh The New York subway has its own distinctive scent, like a cocktail of black tar and metal shavings, that I immediately find familiar and comforting every time I retun. You’d think it would mostly smell like… Continue reading If London is a watercolor, New York is an oil painting.
Bitter Soda
One of the things I have taken very seriously since having become suicidally depressed last month is my relationship with drugs and alcohol. Particularly alcohol, which has by far been the most destructive of my coping mechanisms in my life. Of late, I have partaken rarely, usually in very small amounts when I have, and… Continue reading Bitter Soda
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Sometimes you just gotta get a little tipsy, smoke some weed, make a little music and watch a fuckin’ action movie. Ya know? Safe House is SNAPPY so far. Woooo!
An introverted peace
For as long as I can remember, I have identified with with my thinking, and being thought of, as a naturally extroverted, gregarious, outgoing person. It wasn’t a conscious choice, it just happened somehow that I caught onto the facts that a) I did well at creating myself as the center of attention and b)… Continue reading An introverted peace
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“I love it when I crack my back downing alcohol”
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“We celebrate the death of a crack addict because she could sing. This isn’t to persecute Whitney Houston. It’s to persecute us for persecuting all the other crack addicts who can’t sing. Think things through.” — Urban Samurai
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Snuggled in bed next to a pretty dozing boy, adding some stuff to neevita after a long, cracked out, but enjoyable day. As the benedryl starts creeping in, I wind down closer to the glorious 10 hours of sleep I’m about to get, with the bathroom fan balancing out the upstairs TV sounds, and a… Continue reading Untitled