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Previous - this entry written on January 31, 2006 at 3:22 am - Next Woo. Drinking good. Alcohol + blood pressure meds + amatryptaline + anti-seizure meds + promethazine = me typing this sentance out at least six times before getting it right. Also = me being out of it enough to forget or ignore the little tv in the back of my head playing out other versions of my life. I am now on my second mixed drink containing at least three shots of vodka, plus I added an extra shot and a bit more juice to the first one about halfway through. So I am decidedly not sober now, and am instead cheerfully certain that I am the captain of the carpet ship. Now to take another pheneragan, a pill or two of vicodin - please don't try this at home, my liver is both used to the abuse and as of about six months ago when they did the last test on it, bizarrely healthy considering how much medication and alcohol I've ingested in my life - and then hopefully to crash. WITHOUT dreams. It's the shootouts on the bus that are bothering me the most because I KNOW exactly when my life-as-it-is varied from life-as-it-could-be to spare me the event. Sometimes it was as simple as getting off a stop earlier. It kinda scares me to think that I could be dead, or bleeding, or just shellshocked. 'Dun like that idea. I'll stick to my life as it is, thank you. Although the centaurs would have been cool. Hosted by Diaryland - All Rights Reserved - Image, Layout, and Content copyright Jax Raven - - Do Not Feed The Moose - |
