i got broke

yeah. i watched bees again. they're much easier to capture in photograph form when it's chilly out as they move real slow.

today...i prefer the term hot mess, i guess. it's better than 'hungover loser' or anything else that insinuates i didn't attempt to look this awesome.

i officially sobered up around ten this morning despite the massive amount of alcohol i threw back up last night. nothin' like throwing up on an empty stomach after six shots of brandy and a dozen cigarettes. the cold, autumn wind helped wake me up as i snuggled my paper cup of hot coffee between my hands to keep them from losing all ability to move this morning. i really wasn't as tired as i should have been after the couple of hours of restless sleep i got. i didn't dream last night...i think my brain was physically unable to find the REM state...which is fine, i didn't feel like dreaming; i had enough on my mind as is.

here's the story...i go out to a gallery opening to see a friend's work...i told ya that already. i hang out, talk, socialize with other artists and complete strangers and then my world gets shook up by such a happily familiar face, a ghost of a best friendship and memories that i was not emotionally prepared to have surface and i dealt with it by freaking out inside...while trying not to let it show on the outside. out of all the places, in all the world, at all the times. yeah. it was so empty to think of the awesomeness that got lost in the bad decisions. i was in the same place, with someone who i proudly considered my bestgood friend and for all the rest of the room knew, we were complete strangers. after the tension, the nerves, the insecurities, the vulnerability and the general awkwardness of the night i went home and still tried to stay quiet--yet it all surfaced, and doubt and blame and mistrust comes back and i drank instead of going to bed, like i knew a sane person would have. but, once i started drinking, i didn't want to stop. so, i kept going. and i spewed nonsense about politics and fashion and careers and art and i never made one coherent point and i listened to fall out boy and blink and foster the people. then, i hit the wall. and i knew i was done. i threw up all over the bathroom and i stood there, looking at myself in the mirror...looking at my black, swollen eyes, not recognizing myself at all and smelling nothin' but brandy and vomit and thinking about what a fucking mess i was. and i was mad at myself for being so paper thin and so able to be blown over by such a small wind. and i picked at the weird sliver in my lip (no clue) and started attacking myself, in my own head, for being such a loser. but, this was my first time out of the house in so long and ya know what? shit just messes with ya sometimes. period. and i closed my eyes and i took a deep breath and i felt my feet, firmly on the ground. and i chalked it up to that, that shit just messes with ya sometimes. and i wiped my hands of it. and brushed my teeth. and i crawled into bed after losing my pants and one sock along the way. and at 7:30...i rolled out of bed, choked down a granola bar and a few ibuprofen, stumbled into the shower, threw on a short red skirt, yellow sweater, black legwarmers and a jean jacket, and i started my day. and i packed up my art supplies and headed to a ritzy, suburban art fair full of happy, shopping people who wanted their kids to paint with me. and the wind blew and the clouds never parted but i smiled, and laughed, and stayed as charming as possible, and painted, and talked of my love of fall, and art, and photography and had an amazingly, uplifting time. and then, i went to lunch and i ate awesome food, full of grease and nastiness that never tasted so good. and that's when this story was retold by my guy and he laughed at me for being such a ridiculously, over-dramatic cliche of an artist. he laughed at my whirlwind of emotions and he laughed at my past 18 hours...and, i had to laugh too. because ya know what...ya can't make this shit up. it's me. and the strangest things happen to me...and it's okay. i don't always deal gracefully. but i try. i'll probably never be let out of the house again, but maybe that's for the better...it didn't really work out so well this time anyway.

so, here i sit. listening to all american rejects wishing i could eat without feeling sick, but i think i broke my stomach. and the calm of the night falls on me and i just realize that, because my house has been full of people hours, it's eleven o'clock and i forgot to feed my kid and her friend dinner. i did fill them with warm, homemade, chocolate chip, oatmeal bars as they sat outside on this cool evening building with their lego's--if that counts for anything.

i guess i don't really know what else to say other than, hi :)
((i'm crazy.))

and...you have GOT to be kidding me. just as i go to wrap this post up and right as i scroll down to the little, 'publish post' button, the lyrics that suddenly fill my silence are that of +44, on a random pandora station...

the next time i'll see you you'll turn away.
i'll say hello but you'll keep on walkin'.
next time you see me i'll turn away.
...
i'd only want to make you smile.

yup. haven't heard the song in so long because i skip it every time.

couldn't make it up if i wanted to...