January 1, 2002 Happy Gnu Ear everybody!
For some people it was liquor and K for New Years, but it was LSD night for Bam and me. I haven't done it in three years, but eventually I found myself not wanting to be on it anymore. I was in a fourth goddamn dimension, how very uncomfortable. It wasn't so much visual as it was a body fry, because we didn't do enough of it, but that night I kept thinking the whole time that I didn't want to be thinking the way I was thinking anymore. WHAT?!? Right.
What happened was, I got really restless and shifted around on the couch a lot from being bored with the random tangents my head went on. I'd see the ceiling doing weird things like turning into black and white pyramids, and in my head there was an explanation for all of it. Only I'd forget the explanation as soon as it made sense to me. When the tangent would burn out, I'd be left thinking, "What the hell was that all about? It's not over, either. Fuck, I'm gonna be going through this all night." And it drove me absolutely insane, going through this cycle of dazing-off-and-knowing-I'm-fucked-up-and-snapping-out-of-it-and-falling-back-into-it-and-wondering-what-the-hell-"it"-was. I got annoyed with little things like how my hands rested on my lap, and I'd flop around on the couch like a goddamn fish every few seconds because I was so uncomfortable. It was 3:00 in the morning, and there was some Leslie Nielson-esque comedy airing which we thought for a second was cheesy porn because of all the tits. At times I had kaleidoscope vision and thought the movie was actually breaking up and spiriling around. That's about all I was tripping on, other then the fact that I really wanted to get up and do something to keep my mind from getting stuck on things but I couldn't because I was cracked out and physically inept.
January 5, 2002
Gabe spent all day moving into his new house, so after work I went out for dinner and coffee with Kings and Geoff.They called me last night from Artesian while they were rolling. I was exhausted from working such a long week that i was in bed by 9:30 last night. When Kings and Geoff went to the bar, I was in bed again by 9:00 when I decided to call Tom. So Murk and Tom picked me up and we drank at some guy Josh's house in Escondido. There was a black cat there that was possessed I think. I guess one of my resolutions this year is to see more of those guys. My good friends. I realize that since I've been with Gabe it's become less commonplace to give them a call when I have free time. But Robby has just moved in with Josh to a new house in RB, so there's no excuse now not to see them. I forgot how much I love being around them.
January 7, 2002
Gabe and I were in a horrible car accident this morning. It was 1:30 am and we were coming home from a party with Joe and Alexis on Miramar Rd. where construction was being done. We were going about 45 or 50 mph in the second lane and suddenly found ourselves behind a tractor that was going 20 in the same lane as us. Gabe hadn't gauged how close it was until we were just about to hit it from behind. But he turned quickly to the right to dodge it, lost control as he swerved back to avoid hitting the curb, and our car smashed into the right side of the tractor. We kinda bounced off its tire, our car rolled over and landed back on its wheels. I looked over at Gabe when we were still and saw blood dripping down his neck from where he hit his head on the car roof. I touched the back of my head and felt glass sticking out of it. I just noticed that both of our windows were gone and the side mirrors were gone, so when we rolled the glass probably broke on my head or something. What sucks is that the construction guy came over and started cussing at us and then moved his tractor further up the street so that they could keep working.
In the ER I got some X-rays and the glass pulled out of my head which sucked eggs. There was one piece that my nurse couldn't get out and it was killing me. I kept feeling the tips of his tweezers gripping the edge of it but sliding off and making this awful *klink* sound. Then the doctor came over and shot my scalp with some numbing stuff and the fluid underneath pushed the glass further out. I was crying from being so agitated with him fucking with the same spot on my head. Then he cleaned it up and put some bandages on it and stuck a little gauze beanie on me to keep it in place. I had condom head cuz the top stuck up like a reservoir tip. Earlier, a couple of beds down, I heard the nurses tell Gabe that because of his thick scalp, they could either treat his gash by sticking him with a bunch of needles repeatedly or icing it down and just stapling it. So he got five staples in his head.
Mike and Richie picked us up from the hospital and took me home even though I wanted to stay with Gabe all night. When I woke up in the morning, I took the bandage off my head to comb out what I thought was just a huge matted clump of hair above my shoulder. I ran a comb through it and the whole thing just fell out onto the sink. Chunks off my hair were probably cut from the glass when it broke, leaving little shorn tufts at the top of my head and unevenly down the side. I ran my fingers through it. More hair. Whole lengths of it just kept coming out. I felt like Laura Lizzy in that movie The Craft.
Missy Elliot's "Get Ur Freak On" was playing when we got into the accident. What a great song to associate that memory to.
January 9, 2002
I read Glamor magazine today for sex tips. Reading chick magazines from cover to cover is such a goddamn event to me. I get exhausted. As soon as I was done with the 200+ paged magazine (not including the ads) I stuck my head out the window and had a cigarette. (Some good cigarettes that Bam rolled me... No, there's no weed in them.) Chick magazines brainwash me into a state of thinking looks mean everything and how important it is to match the shades of your makeup to the colors of the season and it's so bad to put conditioner on your scalp. Pisses me off. Fuckin not everyone's a model. And the sex advice, forget it. They had a forum of comedians and author chicks get together to talk about what they would put in a sex manual for men. Bunch of fuckin women being all cheesy and relating to each other with their semi-annual sex lives. It reminds me of the show "The View" with Star Jones and Barbara Walters talking about orgasms. "Um, I like it when he touches me and he doesn't have dishwashing gloves on." They should make it funny. "I think it's hot when he gives me oral and the clothespin he has on his nose touches my clitoris." That's what they should say. Maybe I'm reading the wrong magazine.
If they had a sex column in the middle of Teen Magazine or Seventeen and all these young chicks talked about how they liked big dicks or something, but in a non-chalant kind of way, then that would at least be kinda hot. Makeup tips by the Christina Aguilera crack whores and sex tips by the staff sluts, all under the guise of normal, healthy teenaged girls. It's not even cute the way Glamor asks guys what's irresistable about their woman and they say, "The way she eats toast in bed for breakfast with a towel turban on her head and she gets all the crumbs everywhere. I love that." *squishing noises* Fuckin, shit. It's not even cute. Wouldn't it be funny if they said real things like, "I like when I jiz one of her eyes shut and she looks like a pirate."
How ironic that when I finally update my website it's filled with journal entires about doing drugs and getting into car accidents, but reading chick magazines is what really upsets me. I think it's cool that I'm happy right now and not a sexually-frustrated and unsatisfied yenta taking ambiguous "sex advice" seriously. I do acknowledge however that one day I'll be one those women, and own vibrators and stuff. Jesus christ.
*sigh* You know what's really getting to me about this website is seeing Jon's page on the Friends page that I wrote when we were going out a million years ago and I'm talking about how he's my man and all this stuff when I've been going out with Gabe for almost a year. It seems writing about drugs and car accidents is the least I can do to bring this goddamn site up to date. Maybe Glamor magazine actually makes me appreicate drugs and car accidents. Just kidding. I should probably clarify something should this entry be taken out of context that I'm not actually doing drugs and consequentially hitting road construction tractors. Believe me I'm not saying it's fun. I can feel the cut on my head scabbing up as I write this.
January 10, 2002
I was just going over Tara and Roland's journal. They sure make good friends for each other. I wonder if I really miss them or if I'm just being sentimental like I do when I miss ex-boyfriends that were total assholes. Maybe I still believe that if we were friends and had memories at one point then we could all be friends again, but I could so picture them analyzing everything about me and goofing on me to this day and it turns me off to that idea. Ugh. Besides, there's some kind of weird joy I get out of smoking weed with Kings and Geoff in a truck going down the freeway and singing System of a Down at the tops of our lungs. Obnoxious, right? I'm sooo RB.
Goddamn I'm hungry. Kay bye.
