Wasted
September 24th 2008 00:44
Ugh.
Maybe I should just tell the fucking truth.
No wonder my blog has got so boring. Im lying all the time. Well, not quite lying. But not telling the truth either.
When I first started this blog I was such a good little girl. I worked the horses and the property, worked my own body, and contented myself with a glass of milk instead of wine each night. Occasionally, Kman and I would get our hands on some lovely green weed, or some bourbon, or goon, and have a wild old time, but it was very once in a blue moon.
How the hell did this happen?
Oh right. Cos I said I deserved it.
Well. Thats probably true.
One day, a friend took me to see another friend. Both have had babies and dont work. It was about 3pm. We were less than a kilometre from where we once lived on a uni campus - I suddenly said, "Girls! What would we have been doing at this time five years ago?"
They were stumped. I enlightened them - "We would have been trying to get on!"
"Yeah!" They laughed. "The crazy old days!"
Kleo was really disappionted. She had been hoping for a return to the old days. And it seems, Ive grown down, slipped backwards.....Whatever the fuck you want to call it. Because my everyday has been an exercise in getting wasted.
WHOA! Dont get me wrong! I dont get up and skull a beer! I get up, feed the animals and spend the day cleaning the house, fencing and all the drama of a standard day. But since I got fired Ive had the house well stocked in Vodka, Bourbon, Wine, Cowboy, Brandy....And Weed. So by four pm, Ive got the animals in bed and Im parked on the couch getting blind.
See, I like to remove my mind from this restrictive physical plane while I draw. But the drawing just aint coming. Ive just ended up sprawled on the couch, reruns of Buffy, Californication and Married with children running before my eyes. I even bought a new DVD player.
And Im sure you know, you cant write drunk. Whether its keyboarding it or scribbling it, drunken writing never works. Or at least, you think it does until you wake up in the morning and find pages of unitelligable scribble.
Oh yeah, I can hear it now. Dont whinge about a fucking headache when you've spent the last 3 weeks getting wasted. Whatever. I get it. But this sort of shit begins as I run from the head ache. First day - I get fucked up and it disappears. The next day I expect to be crippled, but Im fine, so I repeat formula. Continue to repeat until the fucker finally catches up to me, rorts over every system in my body, and prevents me from eating or drinking anything, let alone an intoxicant.
And Im out now. Its all gone, save half a bottle of brandy and two nips of Vodka. Ive spent enough money on weed to make any drug dealer cry in thanks, and now thats all gone too. Im sitting here, still bruised and tired inside from yesterday, and Im left thinking......
Whats my fucking problem?
Ive always believed, drugs, alcohol, getting off your face, thats all good, so long as you can monitor your condition. Serious addictions occur only when there is a deep seated problem already apparent. Usually, I can happily take a little Soma holiday and return graciously to the real world without a backward glance. You know how it is - just get back to work and look forward to your next one.
And now Im sitting here, planning like a junkie. What can I sell? How far am I willing to travel? How am I going to get more gear and alcohol? Would Kman really notice if the car disappeared? Could I con someone into giving me $100 for the broken DVD player? Can my body handle any more of this abuse?
Ha. Notice how that one comes last.
Probably, the reason Ive never become a junkie, is because Im just too fucking lazy. Sure, I could walk down the shop with my exhausted and drained body carrying the heavy DVD player. I could sell it, go hunting for drugs. Thats no fun by the way. If you dont know someone who has a supply your left hitting pubs and street corners and theres a good chance you'll hit a cop. Its much better to stay put, watch my ponies graze past the window, and feel the minutes slipping by as they dig into me with their sharp claws.
I can also go and play with the kittens. Ive got some pics....But all pics of the inside of a cat den just look like 1 kitten with five heads....So I'll try and get some better pics.
Maybe I could draw, maybe I could write.....Gotta get to the bottom of this....GET THIS SHIT OUT OF ME.....Whatever it is.....Discover, the core......WHATS MY FUCKING PROBLEM!!!!
Oooh...Interesting statistic from Yahoo news this morning.....Cutting is increasing, suicide is decreasing in girls between 13 and 19. How bout that. Cutting is healthy. Saves lives.
Hey. Now THERE'S something I havnt done in a long time. Thats a thought. Now, whats safer, blind drunk, high as a kite, or bleeding from a controlled razor cut?......
And is all 3 really that fucking dangerous?
Seriously. Dont take this seriously. Dont listen to my shit. I get over it. I always do.
This is Kleos confession....
Maybe I should just tell the fucking truth.
No wonder my blog has got so boring. Im lying all the time. Well, not quite lying. But not telling the truth either.
When I first started this blog I was such a good little girl. I worked the horses and the property, worked my own body, and contented myself with a glass of milk instead of wine each night. Occasionally, Kman and I would get our hands on some lovely green weed, or some bourbon, or goon, and have a wild old time, but it was very once in a blue moon.
How the hell did this happen?
Oh right. Cos I said I deserved it.
Well. Thats probably true.
One day, a friend took me to see another friend. Both have had babies and dont work. It was about 3pm. We were less than a kilometre from where we once lived on a uni campus - I suddenly said, "Girls! What would we have been doing at this time five years ago?"
They were stumped. I enlightened them - "We would have been trying to get on!"
"Yeah!" They laughed. "The crazy old days!"
Kleo was really disappionted. She had been hoping for a return to the old days. And it seems, Ive grown down, slipped backwards.....Whatever the fuck you want to call it. Because my everyday has been an exercise in getting wasted.
WHOA! Dont get me wrong! I dont get up and skull a beer! I get up, feed the animals and spend the day cleaning the house, fencing and all the drama of a standard day. But since I got fired Ive had the house well stocked in Vodka, Bourbon, Wine, Cowboy, Brandy....And Weed. So by four pm, Ive got the animals in bed and Im parked on the couch getting blind.
See, I like to remove my mind from this restrictive physical plane while I draw. But the drawing just aint coming. Ive just ended up sprawled on the couch, reruns of Buffy, Californication and Married with children running before my eyes. I even bought a new DVD player.
And Im sure you know, you cant write drunk. Whether its keyboarding it or scribbling it, drunken writing never works. Or at least, you think it does until you wake up in the morning and find pages of unitelligable scribble.
Oh yeah, I can hear it now. Dont whinge about a fucking headache when you've spent the last 3 weeks getting wasted. Whatever. I get it. But this sort of shit begins as I run from the head ache. First day - I get fucked up and it disappears. The next day I expect to be crippled, but Im fine, so I repeat formula. Continue to repeat until the fucker finally catches up to me, rorts over every system in my body, and prevents me from eating or drinking anything, let alone an intoxicant.
And Im out now. Its all gone, save half a bottle of brandy and two nips of Vodka. Ive spent enough money on weed to make any drug dealer cry in thanks, and now thats all gone too. Im sitting here, still bruised and tired inside from yesterday, and Im left thinking......
Whats my fucking problem?
Ive always believed, drugs, alcohol, getting off your face, thats all good, so long as you can monitor your condition. Serious addictions occur only when there is a deep seated problem already apparent. Usually, I can happily take a little Soma holiday and return graciously to the real world without a backward glance. You know how it is - just get back to work and look forward to your next one.
And now Im sitting here, planning like a junkie. What can I sell? How far am I willing to travel? How am I going to get more gear and alcohol? Would Kman really notice if the car disappeared? Could I con someone into giving me $100 for the broken DVD player? Can my body handle any more of this abuse?
Ha. Notice how that one comes last.
Probably, the reason Ive never become a junkie, is because Im just too fucking lazy. Sure, I could walk down the shop with my exhausted and drained body carrying the heavy DVD player. I could sell it, go hunting for drugs. Thats no fun by the way. If you dont know someone who has a supply your left hitting pubs and street corners and theres a good chance you'll hit a cop. Its much better to stay put, watch my ponies graze past the window, and feel the minutes slipping by as they dig into me with their sharp claws.
I can also go and play with the kittens. Ive got some pics....But all pics of the inside of a cat den just look like 1 kitten with five heads....So I'll try and get some better pics.
Maybe I could draw, maybe I could write.....Gotta get to the bottom of this....GET THIS SHIT OUT OF ME.....Whatever it is.....Discover, the core......WHATS MY FUCKING PROBLEM!!!!
Oooh...Interesting statistic from Yahoo news this morning.....Cutting is increasing, suicide is decreasing in girls between 13 and 19. How bout that. Cutting is healthy. Saves lives.
Hey. Now THERE'S something I havnt done in a long time. Thats a thought. Now, whats safer, blind drunk, high as a kite, or bleeding from a controlled razor cut?......
And is all 3 really that fucking dangerous?
Seriously. Dont take this seriously. Dont listen to my shit. I get over it. I always do.
This is Kleos confession....
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Comment by Ash
Flashes of memories
oooh this is not good news my dear, dangerous road to go down (coz I kinda went down it too when I was living in the UK
Sorry but I laughed when I read this:
just because I know what it`s like to be thinking exactly along those lines! You need to keep a check K because it`s the start of a road you don`t want to go down... and it may seem like you have a handle on it, but soon the disatnce between the 'episodes' come quicker and quicker.
Keep safe K
Ash xxx
Comment by Kleonaptra
Kalikapsychosis
Thanks for being so worried, but as I mentioned, my body put a stop to it...I think it was triggered by my allergies but I had a whole day of migraine agony so Im terrified to drink now. Its the emotional stress though, Ive got some shit I need to work out.
I knew you would get this, that feeling, the one that says, "If you dont do something quick we will be SOBER and in the REAL WORLD soon! Do SOMETHING!"
But I will get over it, Im just doing it a bit slower than usual.
Comment by Ash
Flashes of memories
Comment by Kleonaptra
Kalikapsychosis