ihavebeenfloated

Sitting at a red light. Green arrow, here we go.

Now I’m sitting in Rookies by myself. Disturbed is playing on the jukebox way too loudly. My white russian has so much vodka in it I’m afraid to taste it, but I can’t anyway because the glass is so full that if I try to stir it, I’ll end up throwing it everywhere. Le sigh.

Now it’s 311 and I’m a little bit more empty inside than I was before. At least the rage is merely obnoxious, but this fucking bullshit is utterly soul crushing. I hate to default to weighty platitudes but that’s just how I feel tonight.

This white russian aint half bad. The cute, tiny tiny, asian bartender chick made herself one. Cheers, and all that, she smiles. I smile. BUT INSIDE I AM EMPTY. Hahahaha ah ha ha ha.

Kristie just called, telling me to rush thru my russian so I can come upstairs. I’m enjoying myself. After nearly two hours on the road, I have to say a nice smooth drink tastes good.

John is on my left and Kristie is on my right. No, that’s not right, reverse that. Bartender is cute, had me taste this hybrid russian she made with something else in it.

John speaks fondly of a party in Montebello tonight, hot single chicks, a hot tub. I wish I could summon some sort of enthusasim but unfortunately—I can’t spell—I am devoid. Oh well.

Half way done with my white russian and I kind of feel like I am falling apart in a good way. Alcohol euphoria doesn’t make sense but I don’t drink anymore so lets just deconstruct and run with it.

Upstairs in Kristie’s apartment. John and some guy are leaving to that party so it looks like I’ll be alone here with Kristie. Not really sure what’s going on. That white russian has me feeling—I keep typing “russain”—pretty good. I almost said floored. Almost said pretty god. Not sure what’s going on.

Kristie has this gigantic remote control, those jumbo ones they sell at Walgreens. It’s a conversation piece, kind of like a coffee table book, but instead it’s coffee table electronics. How funny? Not really sure…

I’ve told this story before but: I had a psychiatrist when I was in middle school. He eventually prescribed me Prozac and later on, Effexor (?). But, anyway, the only memory I really have of him is that he wore really thick glasses, but he was hardly actually wearing them.

I asked him one day, “Why don’t you wear your glasses?”

And he says, “Sometimes I find that the world is easier to take without them on.”

That statement has probably shaped my perception of the world around me more than anything.

Kristie is talking to me about what she wants to do. She tells me what it is but I’m not listening because I’m looking at a txt message. But still carry on a conversation with her about it without saying anything specific about anything at all. It’s magic, really, total magic, this ability to carry on conversations with women without actually hearing anything.

Fifteen minute conversation about fucking fat chicks. Awkward conversation to have in front of a girl who isn’t quite skinny.

I’m going to go now. Rude to be typing in presence of company.