Woke up this morning with a weird taste in my mouth... what was it? I was too ailed to think about what it could be. My stockings had gravitated downwards during my sleep, and were now wrinkled at my ankles. The ponytail from last night was now a few hairs connected at their very ends. Did I sleep with my glasses on? I switched immediately from wonder to a "fix-it" attitude and proceeded to pour myself a glass of water. Oh!- that's it... that taste in my mouth was just my throat exhausted from my toilet sessions. I don't understand why, but it's like a form of meditation when I'm drunk. Choking in order to release everything I can from my body. Depriving my throat from closing and feeling closer to death as I sit in the most humbling of positions heaped over our dirty toilet.

But I've come a long way. Really, I have. It sounds brutal I know, but this would have been a good night just a few months ago. Not that I could afford bad nights anymore I suppose... money definitely provides more opportunities to fuck yourself up. And I suppose it wasn't all my choice... all my old "friends" kind of wandered out of my life or out of their habits. I know that its a good thing, but in a sick way its sad that if I ever wanted to have a little relapse they wouldn't be there. I can't rely on them having magical substances of self destruction.

Oh well, I still have some sort of connection. At least the connections I have now are not of habitual necessities... no one does acid every day. I mean, I know there are a lot of people that do take acid everyday. Like maybe Charlie on Haight street, or Spun Sean. Actually, I'm pretty sure Spun Sean is just perma-fried, and I think he's moved on to that black rock shit now. There's a season for taking LSD everyday, but I think December might be the off season. Anyways, not nearly as many people are addicted or in need of a fix of acid as they are of meth. So my point is that I'm happy I still have connections if I want to get fucked up, but I'm happy those connections are not for powders.

My mind is being blown away by male gender roles lately. Everyone I thought was gay is apparently straight. I assumed after having a crash course in gay-dar at my Castro job that I could label gay-straight after a few minutes of conversation. But alas! There are men out there that do not fit into these roles!!! Oh what disaster! Telling these men stories I would only tell a gay man! I feel so exposed! Fortunately for me I never once tried to bond with them about being a queer... that would have been an awkward situation. I still can twist around the situation in my head and they will never know I thought they were anything but straight. All is well.

You know, I'm a very complex individual and I don't think I am really meant to find just any one person that will work with me. It's going to be a long journey to meet someone that will truly understand and accept me. So when I meet someone and fall head over heels in one-month love, I need to remember that if there are any parts of me that I would have to hide from them, it's not worth it. I can't give up any part of myself for someone I just met. I can't become good little straight white girl at the bat of an eyelash. That shit will always be inside me and until I: A) realize that this is all some rebellious nature that needs to grow the fuck up, B) grow enough balls to test out a girl on girl emotional relationship, or C) meet someone that allows me to do whatever I want, I can't expect it to disappear.

So, es mi vida for now. Figured my hungover brain would feel a little better after some online blog banter. Now I have to get my ass in the shower and get to work.