8:26 a.m. - 2006-07-04
thoughts and thoughts and thoughts and thoughts....
I am renting a room from a friend. He owns a mobile estate. You know the world is going straight to shit when political correctness finds its way into the trailor parks. "Shut up, its a trailor!"
I haven't been sleeping well lately. My thoughts won't let me sleep. My mind just keeps going. It's like someone turned a light on in mind and then broke off the switch. I drink a lot. Which helps me sleep. The drinking thing isnt really a problem. Im not an angry drunk. I just drink. I pay my credit card bills and cell bills on time. I never miss work. The worst thing i could say is that i show up to work every day promptly around five to ten minutes late, but I dont own a car.
I have to take public transportation.
I gave my last car to my sister. I figured she needed it more than i did or needed more than i wanted to keep it. The car before that I got from my other sister, a volz bug, and then it broke down a few weeks later. Before that I lived in San Francisco for a year and a half and didn't need a car, before that I owned a geo metro, my first car, a purple skittle. That thing was hit by a drunk driver.
So, yeah. I dont drive.
Oh, yeah. So the drinking problem thing. Funny thing: One of my friends tells me that drinking alone is the first sign of alcoholism. I told him that I thought that drinking alone is the first sign of loneliness. I told the first sign of alocoholism is drinking. Then a few days later, I call a different friend and I ask him, what are you up to? He says that he's drinking. I ask him if he's drinking alone. He says nope I'm on the internet.
.... and yeah, so, bad thoughts. I was in a relationship with an artist. She drew psychadelic pen and ink collages. We were together for eight years, even when we split up three years ago to move to San Francisco, we were still sort of together. Then Three months ago, I snapped, She snapped, every where a snap, snap. The arguments started with her giving up art to become a full time real estate agent. She wanted to grow i up and I am 26. She's 25, but woman mature faster than men. I'll grow up, probably when I'm 36.... 42.
So, She moved into her parents house. I began to roam the Earth.... okay, I roamed California, but, really, where else is there in the world. I stayed in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Orange County, Temecula, Then on July 3rd, i moved into a "mobile estate". By the next day, insomnia kicked in and so, since the dvd player is broken and I didnt feel like reading the book Im struggling through, So i borrowed my friends lap top and sat down to write this entry.
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