Dispatch from the gutter

Folks, I am not on top of my game lately.

Let me count the ways:

• I couldn’t sleep for two nights because I was so, so, so itchy.
• I never feel like going to the gym anymore. (And usually I am crazy about the place! Usually I want to be there all the time. Mr. Pistol sometimes has to drag me away by my hair!)
• And speaking of Mr. Pistol, last night I offered to make him dinner, and this is what I came up with: four fake chicken nuggets and a meager portion of broccoli, which I overcooked.
• Then, we went out to meet Left Hook and Inspector Corset, and I had four drinks, without eating dinner. One minute I was cranky and sober, then, next thing I knew it was 1:45 and I was alone at Union Pool and some dude kept trying to talk to me. I don’t even know what he looked like, because I refused to lift my head at all. I just went on impotently Sidekicking… pretend-Sidekicking really, because the AIM was a ghost town, the only new email that came through was a link to a speech about Jesus, suicide, and football from my mother-in-law (wtf?), and I was too confusedly drunk to do something productive like text my sister. The Inspector had gone to get something to eat, Mr. Pistol went home because he has to work early, but WHERE WAS LEFT HOOK? That’s what I wanted to know. Know what I did about it? I left. Apparently, that’s what kind of person I am. I did a feeble walk-through, stood by the bathrooms until I saw all the doors open (or so I thought), left her voicemail and sent a text, and then I fucking left. I am such an asshole.
• The whole night, my drinks didn’t even taste good to me.
• And to top it all off, my skinned knee of TWO WEEKS AGO still hasn’t completely healed.

What am I supposed to do about this bullshit state of affairs?

Yesterday when I was in Duane Reade buying a bevvie, I looked up and saw a sign that said

SKIN REMOVAL

Then I looked again and what it actually said was

HAIR REMOVAL
SKINCARE

But SKIN REMOVAL sounded like a good idea to me! Or, really, a step beyond that. I want to take a vacation from my body.

Sure, there are pleasures of the flesh, but that shit is all so fleeting! Like, I’ve had two Tofutti Cuties so far today, and they afforded me 30 seconds of pleasure apiece, but what good does that do me now? None. I’m back to the lack.

Fuck skin, and being itchy, and tastebuds that turn on you so that Maker’s Mark suddenly tastes wrong, and hangovers, and having to cart around 145 pounds of flesh and bones and organs and whatnot all the time with no break whatsoever. I would like to check it all at the door and enjoy a day or two of disembodied floating. Why is that impossible?

Does anybody have any other ideas?

by Pistol Whip | 16 February 2007 | not OTOMG, narcissism, worst friend ever | Comments