( The whole gamut! Self-destruction of yore, body image, and daddy issues! )

Being sick as an adult sucks because all you want is for someone to bring you some fucking soup and buy you some fucking medicine but there's nobody whose job it is to fucking do it. Boyfriend in a different borough, brain on planet flatline, guts awash with nausea and sadness.

I was filled with New Year's spirit last night, and it's carried over to today-I got stuck in the Times Square labrynth while trying to get to my friend's party, and despite the annoyance of a 45-minute detour to get from 49th and Broadway to 46th and 9th, I was happy. Everyone seemed happy, buzzing with merriment; the cops were being benevolent ( Read more... )