Yes, we are all happy that yet ANOTHER story wants its telling yes, Aunt Joe, I will try to get back to you get around to you you and all those others me and Benton Callie you’re still asleep in Venice Ronnie you’re at Callie’s grandmother’s house the family seat you’re wringing your hands George says, Ronnie, it’s time to check in.
Excitement. Stimulation. Over. Then the flood.
Last’s night’s EFM class was very stimulating and difficult, maddening at times. Got chirked up. Came home and there’s Alex with his guest smoking in the peanut butter room with her claret sweater and Marlboro menthols and of course I have a large reaction what the hell who is smoking in the house Alex you have not closed the vent. Lindsey was alarmed by my reaction perhaps doesn’t know me a wit I sat down and had a smoke and then smoked part of one of those impossibly evil menthols been a long time I’m back with Kathryne on the picnic table we cannot talk enough we smoke for hours hours hours all day that bit of magic.
Didn’t want to go to sleep. Took ½ oxy at 6:00 and didn’t hurt quite so bad all over the glands behind my ears did not scream during class and I felt good and made what may have been a very big mistake read the last three essays I’ve written good lord these last two weeks is that right is that correct how is it that I write so much?
Stop rambling and please to record--
Woke up at five. Went to bed at eleven-fifty. Woke up at five to pee. Was cold. Got some comforter when I slipped back in bed turned toward Dale and he kneed me his right to my left pow on the bone. I did a fitful pretend sheet on and off cover on cover off cannot breathe the damned mask threw cover off again and sat up and Dale said for the love of god and I got up.
And my head was a bit loud and the talky talky to myself and the oh no. Please, Saint Whoever of the mentally diseased stick your hand into my brain and pet it like a kitten.
Countdown to party:
Hold the shit together. You haven’t done anything wrong anything to feel guilty about. Be alert. Guilt the default guilt the heavy mantel cloak Dante outfit lurks in Xmas trees and good cheer. Take special care, Rebecca. And you, whoever you are, if your emotional unbalanced head is hanging by a thread, take special care. Just don’t snuggle with the baby Jesus. There isn’t room in that little thing they call a manager. I don’t think that thing is really a manager.
Okay beside the point. Signing off.
~good gods sun rain moon and earth tie her down