(no subject)
I don't know why someone wrote "Brilo Pad" on my knuckles... wasted night at Justin's apartment in Trenton.
Larry's house a few weeks ago.
I can imagine this is the worst place to be high on LSD, crammed into the back of a car with a crazy man driving.
Me and Jill's candlelit dinner at Johnny's new squat, lots of acid and Black Sabbath. Bizarre two night sleepover there.
Squatter puppies spoon train.
Favorite boys.
I think I'm drawing the line tomorrow, I think I'm giving up. None of this is making me happy - the only time I felt happy within the last few days is today. I woke up and took a walk around West Philly by myself for a couple of hours, I sort of figured out some shit. This stuff with Michael has to stop. I get my car back and we're taking off. Just who with specifically is the question. All of this is either going to make us or break us, I can't really tell yet. Someone help me deal with all this. I listened to stories of hopping trains all last night. I also learned not to watch my mouth because stuff I don't even say still comes back to me anyways. Fuck the passing on of messages, no one ever relays them right. I think I'm going a little bit crazy ...