not nearly as drunk as I should be
weirdness
everything is just — unsettling. I’ve got a nice buzz on — partly vodka, partly oxycodone.
But I should be nearly unconscious, which as you can see, I’m not.
It’s been a weird and shitty week, as you are aware.
tomorrow, things should start to get back to normal. I suppose I’ll go back to karate, though that’s going to be an ordeal unto itself. It’s times like this that I really wish classes were on Tuesdays’s — the drama of being Monday sometimes makes it harder than it needs to be.
The doc wants me to start physical therapy tomorrow. I don’t know that I can afford it. Besides, i think that encroaches on sensei’s territory.
I’m not sure that I want to go back to karate. I *will*, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not sure I want to. It hasn’t really been *fun* for a very long time, and I’m mostly fueled now by having the goal, and by not wanting to fail. Which is a poor motivator when you lose the will to give a shit about anything.
Which I haven’t *entirely* lost. But it took a severe blow this week.
Somehow, last night, on the way out of the Schermerhorn after hearing a masterful performance of Verdi’s Massa da Requiem, I sliced the fuck out of my finger. I have no idea how, i just felt a throbbing and noticed I was bleeding. The gauze on my finger now does as much if not more than the booze to make this typing difficult.
By the time I noticed my finger bleeding, I had bled a good bit onto my sortof-white pants. So I did a whole dance to wash the pants and get the blood out before the stain set. Meanwhile I played with Genghis Kat. Then I pulled the pants out of the wash, and there was all this new blood on them! Shit, the cat got my wrist. Gotta wash the pants again. So much for being green and efficient.
Saw a trailer at the Belcourt today for a movie about Genghis Khan. Haven’t decided if I should let the cat see it. He’s already mean enough without giving him any ideas. Yet, he really should know his roots.
Boarding Gate is sort of a stupid and pointless thriller. But the scene where it all goes down? Fucking HOT. And I’m not even into any of that shit. [Heh. Ridley says basically the same thing. Only he says it much better, of course.]
Jon Stewart was excellent Friday night. As I said to Kate, “not 80 dollars worth of good, but still very good. Easily 50 dollars worth of good.”
Disturbing, retarded, racist screeds about fearing an Obama presidency on the grounds of not liking gangsta rappers? Yeah, I was a little shocked to see one on the Nashville Gothic board of all places. I thought goths were supposed to love all things black.
Remind me to buy a back yard compost bin
Bah. I’ve had Carmina Burana on in the background and it’s over. Seems like a good excuse to pour another drink. Let’s try to make this one stiff enough to knock us the fuck out.
Seems to help get you out of my head.
