November 13
What a ridiculous day. In short, today was a complete haze. But, we don't tend to do things short around here. Let's break it down.
I slept in, and cleaned up my apartment. For having had seven people over for drinks last night, my apartment was in surprisingly good shape. The platform shoes, wigs, and stripper heels all had to go back to their rightful spots, though.
Waking up this morning, I had so many plans for my day. Writing, editing my resume to send to Amphitheatre Entertainment, etc. I didn't end up doing any of it. Instead, I looked around the Witch Cave, saw my packed pipe from last night, and decided to get really, really high. That wasn't enough, though. I packed another bowl, masturbated, and got even more stoned. Actually, to say I was stoned is probably an understatement. I was on another planet.
After taking the much-needed time to adjust to my newfound level of baked, I eventually loaded up my backpack and headed to the gym around 1 p.m. From that moment on, the rest of my day was spent in a thick cloud. I was so stoned that I could barely even walk straight. Why does music always sound so much better when you're high? I didn't want to subject myself to the weekend madness that was Yonge Street, so I kept my schlep to Church Street. When I got to the end of the road, I dipped into a grocery store and bought some candy as fast as I could. I didn't want to be in a public space longer than I needed to.
The gym was ridiculous. My entire routine felt like I was climbing a mountain. Mind you, that was sort of the theme of my whole day. Everything felt like a fucking pilgrimage. When I finally arrived at my destination or accomplished what I had set out to do, it felt as though I had been wandering through the desert for 40 years.
Following a successful workout, I decided to thoroughly screw myself over. Picking up some chips and a hearty serving of Chipotle on my walk home, I promptly devoured both while watching The Nanny at the Witch Cave. My gym session had brought me slightly closer to ground level, but I was still in a cloud. I ended up taking a two-hour nap after my dinner.
When I woke up, it was time for another journey. Surprisingly, I didn't smoke before this one. I think that's because I knew I needed to get the damn job done. If I was going to be on public transit, I didn't want to risk falling asleep and ending up in Etobicoke. I grabbed an IKEA bag from under my kitchen sink, and took the subway to Danforth Mall for my weekly grocery trip. An hour and a half later, I arrived back at my apartment. Now, it was time for laundry. Will this day never fucking end?
Given that this was a day after an evening of drinking, I was naturally thinking a lot about last night. A part of me feels embarrassed by my ridiculous Mariah Carey "Honey" outburst on the stage at Business Woman's Special, but the other part of me kind of enjoys it. Mariah Carey is my passion. Her music is what I love. Why bother being ashamed of it, right?
My whole day felt like a long, endless journey. I am so happy that after tonight, the weed will be gone. Although today was a fun little jaunt through the city, now it's time to focus again.
Phillip asked me to see a movie with him tonight, but I was too busy. Interesting, though. Ugh. PW is a fucking idiot. I hate that I was friendly with him last night, when it's so obvious that I don't like him. I mean, I blocked the guy on every app I have. But, what was I supposed to do? Ignore him? Oh, well. I always wonder what Phillip's perspectives of my visits are like. I feel as though they're always slightly chaotic. Then again, everything about my life seems to have that underlying theme of chaos. Always rushing. Always a commotion. Always some sort of drama or opinion. Maybe it's a big personality? Who knows.
I smoked the last of my weed while watching Planet Earth II in bed, and simultaneously losing my mind. The world is so incredible. Why'd we have to go and fuck it up so bad? After rubbing one out, I crawled under the covers.
Goodnight xo
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Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2)
Non-FictionHi, I'm Kurt. A binge-drinking, pill-popping disco diva with a heart of platinum and an appetite for self-destruction. Welcome to Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2). Adapted from a collection of nightly...