Near Matches
Ignore Exact
Everything
2
November 15, 2009
(
personal
)
by
heirdo
Mon Nov 16 2009 at 19:25:21
5:32 AM
: Startled awake by
exploding head syndrome
. I am fully dressed, sitting upright on my couch. In one hand, an uncapped black
Sharpie
is gently dangling from my left hand. A de facto hoist exists in the form of my stereo's remote control, prohibiting my jacket from syphoning a pool of permanent black ink. The pen has gone dry regardless. It's the third I've lost this week, alone. My spiral notebook is nowhere to be found, so I reach for the
Moleskine
on my side table. Subsequent examination reveals a faded and crudely scrawled message to no one; hence, my assumption is that the intended addressee is either God or myself to read in a fully-awakened state. Consisting of only two words, the second of which being "off," brevity will later prove apt and effective.
5:39 AM:
Shuffle through my bathroom drawer for old
Trazadone
prescription. Planning to spend the day in a coma, I retrieve spare set of dark brown sheets from linen closet. Nail over bedroom window: commence hibernation.
5:57 AM:
Stomach ripples with a pained growl. The orange slivers from last night's cadre of
old fashions
fail to sustain sleeping pills. Kitchen inventory reveals (2) packets of
Whataburger ketchup
; assorted tea bags and
Sweet'N Low
; (1) slice of bacon and three empty boxes of
Fresca
. Luckily, clothes are still on. Grab
Wayfarers
, Red Sox cap and truck it to the donut shop.
6:02 AM:
Somebody has stolen my car! How could this have happened!? What about all the gates!? Sonofab
6:02:56 AM:
Discover the Beamer I have perpetually failed to return from last week's test drive. Life is bittersweet.
6:58 AM:
Finish half-dozen donuts filled with various cremes and jellies.
3:45 PM:
Friend calls. He's
perturbed
that I danced with his "girl" most of the night. I'm perturbed that the night I decide to fly solo, I run into the same people I'm
already
with nearly every weekend. It's bewildering to me that these "men" insist on having Miller Lite-fueled sausage parties around dimly-lit dance club tables while their counterparts are getting their
sexy-on
... yet wholly amusing when they bum-out because their
uninvited single
friend shows up out of the ether to grind a lil' ass. Y'know, "
sorry, but I'm not an insecure eunuch
?"
3:46 PM:
As it turns out, he just wants to know if I'm
holding
. I tell him I'm not. I am probably lying. I'm probably very generous with my party favors around this guy because we've been friends for nearly a decade. I'm probably pretty frustrated at the fact he never reciprocates with his own
imbibes
due to his current financial hardships. After all, he doesn't have a job and he's living with his parents. Actually - he's living on the top floor of his parents luxury lake house. But I don't have a job, and I have to pay rent and for my own food. I also have to pay $300 a month for my anti-seizure prescription. Earlier in the week, he stated how his parents pay that much for his medication... if that's what you could possibly call goddamned
Propecia
. So...
no
I'm not holding, you
goldbricking
prick
*
click.*
7:30 PM:
Wake-up and I need some fresh air. Drive to Wal-Mart for new pack of Sharpies. The store is relatively vacant; the clearance Halloween candy and fall decorations begin to make me feel homesick. I'm standing alone in an aisle, hovering over a fresh shipment of Christmas snow globes. Individually, I wind the dials and listen to the tiny bells chime gentle classic holiday melodies. In fleeting
disassociation
with reality, the sliver, red, green and gold-colored decorative baubles emit warm translucent rays of light through garland. I have forgotten why I am even here; I am feeling the four walls of my existence constrict around my body; I am feeling my ribs slowly break, each fractured end piercing my lung. I am crying. I think of
her
, of
them
; this time of year, of traditions ever so fond, and... so... inexplicably gone.
7:55 PM:
Bail. Break into a semi-sprint trying to reach the parking lot before tears come faster than the swipe of my hoodie's sleeve. I nearly plow into a well-groomed man before traversing the security posts. In my condition, I fit the archetypal mold of a shoplifter. The gratuitously smiling greeter halts me with his gratuitous smile; I pray that snot has not yet reached my two-day's worth of unkempt pedophiliac mustache growth. He introduces me to the unconventionally
prim
man whom I narrowly averted bowling over in my adolescent female haste to leave.
7:57 PM:
The former
COO
and current Vice Chairman of Wal-Mart Stores, Inc. likely purchases a small bottle of liquid hand sanitizer before heading back to Bentonville, Ark.
8:30 PM:
Lights out for another 12 hours.
November 14, 2009
November 16, 2009
Exploding Head Syndrome
corona
In Defense of the Dumb
Everything2 Decaversary Interviews: clampe
Endworld
trailing spouse
November 15, 2002
Moleskine
Every Dog Has Its Day
Propecia
Arabic
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