yesterday was my first day without a drop of the liquid since a long time. maybe since a.a. last summer. as expected i slept like shit.
dreamt about a billie holliday biopic starring scarlett johannson, massive lols. my brain totally got her face right, sorta creepy.
when i walk around st. paul in my tight hip clothes and supercute indy herr-cut and funky right-eye infection i keep secretly hoping gus van sant is going to drive by and see something angelic in my teenage strut and be inspired and pick me up uncreepily into his escalade and make me the star of his new film, which will be like a coming-of-age-story set in the drizzly nw about young punx with cute indy herr-cutz who become embroiled in like dostoevsky-type issues of sin and mortality and other Big Time stuff. then inevitably i remember he made "paranoid park" and grow resentful and disillusioned toward the hypothetical mr. van sant.
i wonder if i got hypnotized if i could recall things that occured while i was blackedout drunk. like for example whose calvin klein sunglasses wound up in anna's car. was i driving around superfucked w/ some weirdsy i met at a bar who forgot her sunglasses? vaguely terrified about this.
been awhile since i had legitimately new thoughts in my head. lots of mantras and recurring themes in the brain, i.e. being crushed by a huge block of concrete, getting shot by someone i don't know in a random act of streetside violence, etc.
a life as routine and unremarked-upon as a tit on premium cable.