Perfected :: Her Body :: Greek Necessity :: Deep Throats :: Scrolls

In the cold light of day. For the past few days I have been beating my chest and tearing out my hair over my lack of creativity, talent, intelligence, whatever. Drunken, badly-written diary entries made at 5.30 in the morning DO NOT HELP THIS. Not when the vast ocean of gin is still in my system and my head is clogged and buzzing with the beginning of a hangover, not when I'm premenstrual and don't know it yet. But for some reason it seemed like a good idea at the time, to rehash my life in black and white in the cold grey light of dawn. That isn't to say I haven't written well at such an ungodly hour before, it's just that then I wasn't drunk and really not thinking clearly. Rereading it this morning before running out to buy bacon rolls in the warming Monday sunshine, I don't remember writing quite a lot of it, I don't remember feeling most of it. I do, however, vaugely remember going back to annotate previous entries in scrawly biro - a testament to my drunken state, since I try to only ever write in black ink on those creamy, goldleafed pages. I've probably written some very stupid things in there, (I write stupidly in here as well, it's just here I try to be grammatical)but for some reason this annoys me more. This gin thing is getting to be a theme. Maybe I should worry. I am an utterly ridiculous excuse for a human being. Gin doesn't make me depressed, only maudlin, which is just a better class of depressed after all. On the bright side, I got asked to go to Ikea and bounce around on beds with a couple of lesbians. But not with a hangover. I'm not *that* stupid. ______________________________ we have come so far :: it is over

Accomplishment :: The Moon :: Toga :: Night Flower