What with his much-maligned, much-discussed heroin-fentanyl-meth addiction I just figured he needed me more at the moment. I suspected his friends were slowly abandoning him due to their disapproval / fear of exposure / speed of rumor-mongering, aware of the detriment or not. In my rush to worry about him, I *chose* to not worry about you. My bad. That sucked massive hairy balls. Massive fail.


Turns out it was all bullshit, thank god. Meth-addict my ass! Well to me it's bullshit. Dabbling in opiates does not an addiction make. But I have low standards. I mean, just friggin' look at me. My point is he was a-ok, if a bit lonely and wondering why all these people were ignoring him I mean wtf guys.

Cool beans.






The eldest Mendoza has promised to build a second floor into the quite large dog kennel I intend to utilize in housing my bunny. He's good at stuff like that, I figured. I've gotta know at least one dude who isn't just a useless nerd, like the middle son of the same clan (burn) and uh.. actually, most of the people I know, and me. We shure are funbums but I need to get shit done son. He can't beat me in an Elvish spelling bee but he can fuckin' build shit. And he looks like he should be kickin' it at the Dingo with Two-bit Mathews and Tim Shepard getting "rip-roarin'" drunk and drag racing recklessly in that black-on-black little Mustang of his and poundin' on Socs in the vacant lot just for kicks. Or he could be a James Dean movie extra. It's the outfit. And the boots. Click, click, whaaaat. That's the sound they make.

But he just agrees to build bunny kennels instead. Shit gets done.







"So I have this friend and we all know he's a little slow. He's smart, he gets things but he just takes some time to get there you know? So you know what I call him? I call him Dial-up! He's slow but he gets shit done hahaha. Vivi, tell me that's not fucked up. Cuz everyone keeps getting mad at me because it's so fucked up."

Whoa Koroush. Even for me, that one's a toss-up. But I definitely guffawed heartily. Am I a horrible person or nein...





What I would do for a quarter ounce of fine hashish..

"Suck a dick?"

...Naw. Naw, man. Ain't that kind of drug, I mean shiet, son.

I want to purchase a DSM-IV for LT but let her know that being fucked up doesn't really excuse fucking up.

I couldn't tell anyone so I did nothing to cope. Nursing my retard-wounds, I stagnated but no one else did and I forgot that things continue on and develop around and without you no matter your desperate attempt to remain motionless, asleep and dreamless. Not exactly productive. No one had to know. The shame would have driven me mad.

Didn't make a difference that no one knew. Instead, I was blessed with a different sort of shame. Things I had unconsciously done and left undone. One led to the other. It's cyclical.

From my, excuse the cliche, unrequited love and consequent reaction bloomed a well-deserved hate.



No it's all me. I did nothing and thus, I did it all. Everything I never wanted to do and swore up and down I would never do, in my self-centered daze, I did. A hypocrite, through and through.

I lost what little humanity I only recently gained.

Shame and forgetfulness and a heart colder than ice, my meaningless excuses.