03/17/2003 - 3:44 p.m. | happy st. patrick's day

I woke up at 11:30 on Sunday morning. It is 3:30 pm on Monday, and I have yet to sleep. Things could be worse, though. I could be drunk.

Like Kyle.

So, I thought today was sort of a daze to begin with... Throughout math and entomology, I'd wake up long enough to scrawl appropriate notes and then doze off again, and then I made it to Theatre. Walking along smoking my cool ass cigarettes. Last class. Home stretch. And Kyle came in drunk. Not philosopher king drunk. Flat out smashed, fucked up drunk. Throughout the whole class, he yelled and wrote insane, rambling poetry (breaking the lead on my mechanical pencil half a dozen times) and mumbled shit to me that I dare not repeat here. He also kissed me a few times. Kept offering people gum and screaming for them to give him the foil back. Kept screaming about how Giovanni knew everything. Yes, everything. Raised his hand to answer a question and said something entirely incorrect about a character that wasn't even in the play we were discussing. Stumbled out of the room, yelling, "I gotta piss!" Laughed at inappropriate times and yelled "SHIT" out at some point. Class eventually ended, and we walked together to his physics class. He moped about relationships and said hi to pretty much everyone. Talked about stealing balloons and being a ninja or possibly a samurai. We made it to Loomis and he plopped down until Will and Michelle got there and started eating their food. I felt... motherly or something, so I stuck around to make sure he didn't wig out. He mostly burped a lot and said "Excuse me" even louder. Everyone else dozed while I watched the lecture and listened to some d-plan. From there, we made it to Paradiso for lime sodas and a recap of some earlier events. He called Carla Maly near a dead squirrel. I can't describe this adequately. Not now or ever. I don't feel poisoned tired, but I'm not exactly peachy here. I dunno what I should do.