Tuesday, May 04, 2004

Nothing Tra-La-LA

Sweet nectar of the gods, I got a tad bit inebriated both Friday and Saturday nights. Friday was more or less as a result of running into Anna Nicole at "the club." Was totally shocked to see her there. Sort of was under the impression that she'd been flying to Guam or Portugal or Nebraska every weekend to get with her 401K. Sorry I am only half ass trying to be good here. I still, even after the brief conversation she and I had, feel as though a lot of things are being twisted. I do not know if it is to perhaps spare my feelings in some way or to make her look like a better person in her own eyes. I really do not know. At any rate, our relationship has been over for almost five months now, so I need to suck it up and get over the whole thing. I like to pretend I have come to terms with the whole thing, but I know I have not. Oh well. That was a long time ago. I'll just try and pretend nothing happened. What am I talking about?

I keep getting confused lately. I have always been confused on some level, but lately, the only thing I can be certain of is my gender and lack of stability.

Saturday night was another one of those nights where I did something I should not have. Basically, I spent Friday night dodging offers to "powder my nose." Actually we call it Japan now. My friend Go-Go (named for the parallelism between herself and a character in Quentin Tarantino's film Kill Bill Volume 1) was on about fifty different pills, powders, and ales. She kept trying to give everyone some Japan. Well, she basically kept mispronouncing the actual drug name and screamed at one point, "Dammit Little Gay! You made me get Japan all over my tits!" She then looked at me with the most genuine look of concern I have ever seen on someone's face and asked, "Preston, am I smiling?" as she licked the last bit of Japan from here cleavage. I found that line amusing. I did feel extremely nervous being around so many party favors at once. I mean, don't get me wrong, I am not saying I have never tried anything in my life. Hell, for a while there, well nevermind. All I am saying is it is not something I particularly feel extremely comfortable around anymore. Where was all this going? Right! So Saturday night I sort of decided that I needed a Xanax. Well, a friend whom I will call Bob Barker (simply because his name is pretty similar, not because he is elderly and in a leisure suit) asked if I wanted a bar. I told him that I suppose I may as well. So he led me to the bathroom. I could not think of a good enough reason not to do it. Same time I could not think of a good enough reason TO do it. What with all the shinanigans and goings on I have had lately, I felt like a drug induced state of catatonia would do me some good. I do not really remember Saturday night. I always forget why I never really liked to take bars until the day after I decide I need one. Granted, I always forget about the events of the evening as well, so I guess it is a somewhat reasonable tradeoff.

What else? T-Cell count is 383 and Viral load is slightly under 1100. Pretty good considering last time my Viral load was at 5000 or more. Damned cooties. So annoying. My doctor and I had a pretty long talk today about everything that is going on. He put me back on Lexapro after seeing my arm. I tried to play it off as being cat scratches. He said that it was considerate of the cat to make all the claw marks go in perfectly clean perpendicular patterns. I was more shocked the way he worded his response than the actual response. He seems different. Not bad different, just different. No matter how much I feel like I have had to put up with this year, that man has had a hell of a lot more. I admire my doctor a great deal. Not really sure where I would be without him. I mean it is one thing for your friends to tell you everything will be okay. I mean that is what they are being paid for afterall. He was real about everything concerning my cooties. I respect and admire him for that. He is one of maybe five people for whom I have the utmost respect. I trust him a lot. Anyway. I need to sleep. Gotta get a job tomorrow. Still no luck. My aunt found a couple of jobs for me in Louisiana. One sounded allright, but I don't know. Beggars can't be choosers I suppose.

Mini-rant time. And forgive me if this is something I have mentioned. Starting to lose track of how many entries I have done and what exactly was discussed in each.

If these walls could talk, they'd probably speak Hebrew or something. Plus they would still not be able to hear. They'd probably just repeatedly scream, "WHAT?! WHAT?!" Again, the screaming would be in Hebrew, so it would just be random, loud words to most people. Quite frankly I am glad my walls do not talk. Imagine trying to get a muzzle on that shit. Chew on that pig fat for awhile.

Later Consuela.