(no subject)

Delerium is a drug in and of itself.

The last 36 hours have been both surreal and fantastic on different levels.

And I have been officially partying like a rock star for a week straight... well okay... minus the cocaine and the hookers... Maybe next week...

Well... okay.. there's been some hookers... but I prefer to call them "friends".

Been dying to write all week, but I just wind up staring at a blank screen, spacing off and forgetting what the point was before I even got started.

So the week's pretty much consisted of a shiny blur of colors and sounds and music and laughing and griping and mocking and hugging and forgiving and dancing and freaks and smoking, vodka tonics, coffee, tea, ginger candy, old friends, sushi, way too much introspection, not enough sleep, taking the long way home, meetings, greetings, beatings (okay... no beatings but it rhymed), good conversations I wish I remembered better, and a glorious newfound appreciation for life and its cycles and the beauty of not knowing when you wake up exactly what's going to happen today, but wanting to find out. I don't know where I'm going, can't quite decide what I'm doing... but somehow life seems more authentic then it has in a long time. And for that, I can't complain.

Actually I can't really complain about anything. There's a certain freedom in knowing that all your current problems are self-made. Knowing the source of things makes them so much easier to deal with sometimes.... Wait... isn't that what therapy is all about? Sweet. I just saved hundreds of dollars in psychotherapy with a little sleep deprivation and socializing. I should write a self-help book.

I should really go fall down soon. I'm not sure what I'm still doing awake and smoking with heartburn at nearly 5 in the morning with yet another craving for cheese, but sometimes you just have to go with it. This may be a good day to sleep. A lot.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.