Monday, May 09, 2005

161. Dick

Holy fucking shit. I feel like I've been drinking--okay, forced to drink--for about nine months straight, and for some reason that didn't kill me, and now I have the most intense hangover on earth.

This computer I'm using says it's May already. I can't even remember most of 2005 so far, and last fall is a total blur, too. I have this splitting headache, and I just want to sleep all day and all night. But when I do, I have such horrible nightmares, only it's hard to convince myself that's all they are. It just feels so fantastic to be able to stretch out in a bed and feel those soft, soft sheets caressing my skin.

I looked in a mirror for the first time yesterday, and realized how gruesome I look: crazy-man beard, scratches all over my body, crazed expression on my face. I realized I stank, too, and I really meant to shower and shave, but instead I went back to bed. I'll do it today.

Bruce and I found ourselves in the kitchen at the same time a few days ago. I've been so goddam hungry, but then I have no appetite. I think I've been scared that I would just throw up anything I ate. So, anyway, there were we. It was the first time I've seen him in... Well, I don't honestly remember the last time I saw him. All I know is, he must hate me. I don't remember what I did, but whatever it was, I have a feeling it was very, very wrong.

He wouldn't even talk to me. He just stared at me in that super-intense way he does, and he wouldn't stop. I felt like he was trying to drill into the back of my skull with his eyes. Scared the shit out of me, but at the same time it was the first chance I'd had to look at him in ages.

Goddam, he's every bit as beautiful as I remembered.