I keep going back to bed. Now I'm lying on the watermelon velvet bedspread, two throw pillows propped under my left arm pit, the ball of my left hand pressed into my left eye socket, glasses off, almost fetal, hungry but nauseous. I got up late, had a cup of coffee but it tasted bitter. Went back to bed, slept a while. I crawled out later and took a shit. Get those toxins out of my body, I thought. Went back to bed. Slept some, took a shower, masturbated, thought that would help, might release some more toxins. It did not. Went back to bed. I wanted a piece of toast but the toaster oven is broken. As long as I lay on my left side, my head didn't hurt as much, but my left shoulder started bothering me. Oh, bother! I decided to get up and go buy a toaster, or at least go to the Goodwill and find a used one. Like this one that just died. I bought it a year ago maybe for ten dollars. But I sat on the side of the bed thinking I couldn't dare get in the truck and start driving. Maybe a cigarette would make me feel better. Blech! No, that would make me feel worse for sure. Decided I should eat something. Half a bowl of rice crispies in rice milk. Couldn't finish them, all that snap, crackle and pop made me dizzy, made me need to lie down. I took a couple of Excedrin Migraine and drank the rest of the water in my bottle and rolled over onto my bed and slept maybe. Did I sleep? I got up later and Steven was leaving to have breakfast with a friend. Maybe this happened earlier. I couldn't bear to think about turning on the computer, of looking at a screen. But eventually I did. And now I'm back in bed. The phone rang. It was Ruby. She was the one who tempted me to go out last night. She's got friends at Spiderhouse. They made my drinks too strong. I ignored the phone. She didn't leave a message, she came downstairs and talked to Steven in the garden and now she's at the front door saying my name.
March 25: hung (10 minutes)
I keep going back to bed. Now I'm lying on the watermelon velvet bedspread, two throw pillows propped under my left arm pit, the ball of my left hand pressed into my left eye socket, glasses off, almost fetal, hungry but nauseous. I got up late, had a cup of coffee but it tasted bitter. Went back to bed, slept a while. I crawled out later and took a shit. Get those toxins out of my body, I thought. Went back to bed. Slept some, took a shower, masturbated, thought that would help, might release some more toxins. It did not. Went back to bed. I wanted a piece of toast but the toaster oven is broken. As long as I lay on my left side, my head didn't hurt as much, but my left shoulder started bothering me. Oh, bother! I decided to get up and go buy a toaster, or at least go to the Goodwill and find a used one. Like this one that just died. I bought it a year ago maybe for ten dollars. But I sat on the side of the bed thinking I couldn't dare get in the truck and start driving. Maybe a cigarette would make me feel better. Blech! No, that would make me feel worse for sure. Decided I should eat something. Half a bowl of rice crispies in rice milk. Couldn't finish them, all that snap, crackle and pop made me dizzy, made me need to lie down. I took a couple of Excedrin Migraine and drank the rest of the water in my bottle and rolled over onto my bed and slept maybe. Did I sleep? I got up later and Steven was leaving to have breakfast with a friend. Maybe this happened earlier. I couldn't bear to think about turning on the computer, of looking at a screen. But eventually I did. And now I'm back in bed. The phone rang. It was Ruby. She was the one who tempted me to go out last night. She's got friends at Spiderhouse. They made my drinks too strong. I ignored the phone. She didn't leave a message, she came downstairs and talked to Steven in the garden and now she's at the front door saying my name.
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