Because I avoid reality so well, I figured I should put off peeing on a stick for a week or two; I need to focus on my new job which I start in, oh, T-minus four hours and some odd minutes. What on earth am I doing up at this ungodly hour? I attempted to go to sleep at 11:30pm and fitfully dozed. I was conscious most of that time, aware of the unpleasant and strange sensation of my forearms and hands going and remaining numb. These are all signs of anxiety - insomnia, hormonal fluctuations and extremities tingling. Excellent. Why did I stop taking Xanax again? Oh yeah, rolling blackouts of the non-electrical kind. Waking up naked and wondering, "Why is my apartment door unlocked? Who did I fuck last night?" Receiving a text later that reads, "Hahaha, it's a good thing my camera phone doesn't have a flash" from an acquaintance. This actually happened a few years ago, after a night of slugging down Maker's Mark and popping pills on the cusp of an anxiety attack.
That life is over.
I'd like to at least be conscious during my next sexual romp.
In the world of good news, I was asked to write my third article for the New York Press. It should run in a couple of weeks; this one is about fucking a married, former Orthodox Jew. I hope he reads it. Maybe then he'll stop calling me. Usually when someone doesn't return your numerous messages, it means she isn't interested.
Oh, I'm feeling quite cunty right now. You'll have to pardon me.
I'm going to attempt an hour of napping. My air conditioner doesn't seem to be as powerful as this apartment demands. Guess I'm going to have to trundle off to some hardware store soon. I can't sleep with two cats on my head when it's 90+ degrees out.
edited to add: Well, that didn't go so well. As I laid there naked on top of the sheets, I thought about things like, "Did I transfer my Con Ed account? I don't think I did" and leaped off the bed to check. So here I am. Awake still.
Wow, this blog is taking a particularly unsexy turn.
