hungover

jesus christ on the dance floor. its so fucking early.

me = not a morning person.

fuckit. lets roll.

yesterday was a day full of anger, blasphemy, falling off chairs, baking, and liquor.

first of all, my dream:
i was a kid again. like 12. it was my first day of, what, 8th grade? i'm getting off the bus and falling into a sea, and absolute sea, of other kids. all of them in the white polos and khaki skorts and pants of the ol SAISD. were getting herded into a giant building. and it isnt until i'm inside that i realize just how big it is. its only walls and a ceiling. a huge red barn like thing. and i somehow end up in the middle of the concrete floor, barely able to breathe for all the fucking people in there with me. i look up. the walls look metallic and the ceiling is so high. i feel very small and scared. and suddenly i don't notice the chattering students anymore. all i can see is the ceiling and the walls and all i can sense in the vastness of it all. it wasn't until a boy grabbed my hand and told me to look, look, the windows are opening that i came back. and even then when i turned to see the blue square through the shifting metal plate i woke up.

[i had another dream very quickly after this but its to weird to write. notes: it was me, a baby, bobby flay, martin scorsese and we were making a movie. too bad i kept dropping the baby and making out with bobby flay. anyway...]

so after waking up completely questioning my existence and the plan and meaning of it all you can probably imagine i wasnt in the best of moods. mix that with the bumbling softly retarded antics of the two boys i live with and you have a stephanie that thinks in crosshairs, sharp edges and the color crimson.

after stomping around and being broody for a few hours i hung some paintings, yelled at my cats, used gods name in vain way too many times and almost died trying to kill dust bunnies. [long story short, i have no sense of balance.]

i snapped at everyone.
i was offensive and combative and mean.
i wondered what was going to happen to me when i turn 83.
and i watched enough VH1 to kill even the most emo kid.


but then i baked two cakes, a whole chicken and some potatoes.
and i felt so goddamned good i could have kissed that creepy man lady whos having a baby.

i stood in my kitchen with a spatula in one hand and a chicken leg in the other and for a tiny instant i thought: hm. maybe i should drop the tough girl narcissistic some kind of artist i have a cause act and just smile and bake and have sex all day. . . .

an instant later i was yelling again. and i had eaten half the chicken.

luckily it was tom's and my big brothers birthday so i grabbed his cake, went over, walked through the door and into a state of drunk no one should ever be in. the little pink circles of the jello shots. the clarity of the milagro [ lime salt shot no please no more]. sheesh. but it was heaven. my brother was laughing and tom was dizzy and there i stood just the same. surrounded by older folks with smart cars and careers and a wii switching from street fighter to mariocart and back again. flashing lights heavy with questions. a girl from phoenix and a guy telling me we should write a book together. lovely.



yesterday was something else.

today i think ill take my sad tired eyes to bed a while. since i havent slept yet. and maybe drink a couple gallons of water.

if you made it this far. if you actually read all of this. your something else. and i would hug you if i could.


goodnight/day