September 7th, 2008


You know, being crazy sucks.

It sucks because it's not like crazy in the movies. If it was like that and you like thought you were Jesus or George McGovern it would be fine. Because you'd feel like you were cool and in control and that it was the other people around you who were fucked up.

But real crazy isn't like that. With real crazy you know that your responses to shit are fucked up but you don't know what to do about it - and that's real torture.

For example tonight I thought our bill at the Lesbian's goodbye party would be 52 euros. It ended up being 55 euros. I also thought our cab home would cost 12 euros and it cost 15 euros. The total difference is like nine American dollars.

So it shouldn't matter at all. But there is this weird demon in my head that is screaming "You wasted money you stupid fucking shit!"

What really sucks about this is that I had a great time tonight and I'm happy we went out and did the shit and I know it was worth it.

That said, part of me feels like "You will starve someday because you spent an extra nine euros tonight."

And the thing is I wish I was crazy enough to think that thought was rational, but I'm just sane enough to think that thought and know it's fucked up.

More to the point, since I had a great time tonight I don't know why I'm sitting here filled with fear.


I just woke up from a weird nightmare where I was St. Sebastian and people kept throwing spears into me labeled with things I liked. They ranged from "rice" to "freedom" to "ham" to "nicotine" to "drugs."

Each time one of the spears hit me I'd scream "A thousand arrows! Don't you know what that means! A thousand arrows!"

Fuck, I hope the rest of my dreams are more rational.