Desperation had me smoking twigs the other day. What kind of fuckery is that? How badly, how desperately do I need to smoke that I will get to the point where I think, "Gee, sure, smoking twigs isn't so bad. No, not at all.". Is there a point where smoking twigs is ok?

It's raining a shitload right now. There is a heavy cloud above the city and I need to buy groceries desperately and the cat meows at me like a little starved urchin and I just smoked a bowl and the very last thing I want to do is dodge rain while I run to my car and my feet get wet and it's a whole friggin' ordeal. I'll have to wear a sweater.

I also need to go buy weed with the guy I've been boning on and off for 6 friggin' months. I tallied it up in my head and indeed, we had been hooking up on and off since December. When I got back from the Caribbean we hooked up. I had been trying to get over the Aussie miserably and thought that I could get over him by shagging the other guy. Wrong move. Horribly awkward meet up. I slept over at his house; he cooked for me and treated me sweetly, but my thoughts were on the Aussie the entire friggin' time. I was in a drunk and high mindless stupor watching senseless national tv as if the survival of the world depended on it. My head bouncing on the wall, I might even have drooled a bit. I had to pull my consciousness out of the entire situation. It refused to take part in the spectacle. It's like I was watching myself from afar, this determined, adamant person foolishly trying to wipe someone out of her mind, out of her body, by letting another man posses her.