09/24/2005 - 5:23 p.m. | the thing speaks for itself

Gautum is practicing his guitar in the next room. It sort of makes me feel like I�m in a shitty Mexican restaurant. More chips, Jorge! God damn it! MORE CHIPS

Drug log, day whatever:

Yeah, keeping track of days is obviously too difficult, so clearly the issues of memory and motivation (that the drugs promised to cure) are still issues. So, perhaps, is the question of whether or not this helps mental stability at all. Thursday evening I was feeling less stable than ever. For the first time since� ever, I had an urge to be gone. Probably not suicide gone, but just off the map for a while. Like, run away from everything, from all of you, and just hang out somewhere awful (Oklahoma comes to mind) and survive there for a time. I�d eventually get better (I hope) and then come back to maybe sort some of my shit out.

Money is back on my mind, for one thing, and it�s broken record hell, I know, but it�s still a concern to me. I don�t even waste money � it�s all spent on food or bills � the biggest splurge I made was on those damn pheromones and that album by the banned muppet, but I don�t want to ask for help. My parents already pay for my place and my occasionally numerous parking tickets, and I want to help out where I can, but it seems like I can�t even do that anymore, and my credit card bill is always mounting, even though I can't recall the last thing I purchased with it. And I�d love some contacts (because I�m sick of seeing myself in glasses) and maybe a little spending cash here and there, some jeans without holes in them (even if they are timely and stylish at this point), but I already feel like I�m putting too much pressure on them, and like I said, I sort of wish I were just out of the picture. And maybe the Housing Authority does technically owe me a few hundred dollars, but I�m not turning back on my scheme: I am dead. That is my scheme, I was not being melodramatic. But to them, I am dead. I have not answered any phone call or e-mail for weeks, I will not be sending back their keys, I am a ghost, I am wind, and I never even fucking existed. Suck on that, bitches. And they say I�m unconfrontational.

And I decided to back out of the wedding, partially because I really did not want have to go out and buy new dress pants and partially because Kyle and Shelly need to start establishing a normal relationship, which means, unfortunately, one without me. Of course, my whole money saving plan to not buy pants was foiled when I dropped my phone at Wal-mart yesterday evening (before I was drunk � note that), splitting the poor fucker in two. For a while I could make outgoing calls (albeit without the screen functioning), but you know me when I�m drunk � I start picking things apart. You know all those missing chained pens at Schnucks? Yeah, that was my ass. I don�t even think about it, and I end up throwing the pen in the bushes when I realize what I�ve done. Anyway, the phone�s trashed now, and I doubt Cingular is going to give me a new one. So there you go. A greater expense than the one I was trying to avoid. Yes, yes � irony. I love it. And I think about it all the time. Had I gone with Kyle and Shelly, would my phone have remained intact, or was this Friday evening really just its time? What about Spritz�s car? We were rear-ended on Green St. going to get Thai food. No one was hurt, and I don�t think Spritz�s car even got a scratch, but would it have happened at all had I left? I took so long to put on my shoes, did that place us in a different spot, resulting in the whiplash from behind? Stuff like that bugs me. Anyway, my phone is fucked, and now I have to go around and talk to various wireless carriers, a prospect I do not relish. My contract is up, and I suppose I could get a �better deal,� but I was really pretty happy not thinking about it.

On Thursday evening when I was all dramatic and whatnot (partially because of Shelly�s sudden lecture to me about how I am nice one week and an asshole the next � bad timing loves to coincide), I decided to not speak to Missy because I was in such a foul mood that a snap seemed imminent, and anything stupid I did I wanted to do with a clear head. Damn those smart drugs, however. The one effect that really does seem to be working is that I get drunk very fucking easily now. On the one hand, this is full of benefits, because I only had 3.5 weakass drinks last night, and it got me so drunk as to be immobile and blind. Fresca and whatever that alcohol was contained in the old Gatorade bottle (It was some sort of flavored vodka, I think, or else the placebo effect was far stronger than I had imagined). Clearly, I will need to work on the formula there and all, but it is a heartening thing. Plus, Spritz said I was a happier drunk than usual, which is just the thing I need. I was also very hungry, forcing a strangely compliant Spritz to Wendy�s and then ganking some chicken and stars soup off of Allison like twenty minutes later as we all played Mario Kart (mostly I drove into walls, lord I could not see great).

ANYWAY, the point I was making was that I used my broken half-phone to make a call to Kyle, warning him to watch his alcohol intake, and one to Missy, which was apparently not a good idea. I may not have mentioned this, but lately I�ve been thinking her less of a girlfriend and more of a chore, which is just absolutely wonderful on my part. Just another annoying thing I have to do, kill like an hour on the phone with her (saying �mm-hmm� every once in a while as I read Star Trek episode guides), and then I am free to do the things I want. The mindsnap I worried about the previous night seemed to lie in wait regardless, and I don�t really remember what I said, but it resulted in me hanging up the phone in a very satisfied manner. Actually, I do remember that part sort of.

Walking up the stairs to Smacko�s.
Missy: Blah blah blah what�s wrong what are you saying
Me: Oops, gotta go!
Missy: No, you can�t.
Me (thinking): Oh fucking yes I can.
Click.
Joy.

Perhaps that explained my good spirits for the evening. Shelly put the seed in my head a while ago that I do whatever Missy says, and maybe this was my little revolt. Your will is the only thing that keeps me on the phone or dropping 100 bucks on trips to see you. It would be surprisingly easy to drop off the face of the earth.

Well, clearly, there were ramifications. None alcohol related, luckily. Like I said, I�d only had three drinks, which left me surprisingly chipper this morning. But I got a real gem of an e-mail from Miss wherein she described the rest of her evening � crying and her friends holding her back to stop her from visiting. Interesting that I am making such things happen in Kansas. Also, I apparently said to her, �BITCH I NEED SOME COMMUNICATION� (a quote from her e-mail), and I cannot imagine what context I could have ever said that, angrily or otherwise. It sounds more like a joke to me, but clearly I am not to act as if it were. Right now, the plan is to stall. In response to her longass e-mail, I replied, �Lord, we spoke last night?� so that will buy me a little bit. I can�t stand being far away. If we were close, we might already be through, or we might be a whole lot happier, but the not knowing is what sucks mostly. Maybe I�ll have four fuzzy navels and collapse in a coma.