I love you. I don't mean in a "who's your buddy, who's your pal?" kind of way. I love you like I would give you a kidney. Like I would leave you my 403b. LikeI would shave my cha cha for you (sorry MK.)
Because if she didn't start taking it again I was going to start shooting heroin, probably directly into my eyes (sorry again MK) and then I would have to write a different letter - several different letters - as I was working my steps.
Oh Ativan, you are a miracle.
And to be fair, 2 1/2 years is a very long time, and it is an awful, awful, awful way to slowly die. And if I were in that position I don't know that I'd do much better. But I would take my fucking Ativan!
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
The Seven train holds a special place in my heart. So much of my life has been spent on it, from the old Redbirds to the current R62As. Seven train riders are, by far, the most ineresting people (except for those Park Slope transplants in their skinny jeans and Waldo glasses who recently moved to Sunnyside.) Do you ever play that game where you guess where someone is going to get off and stand near them o you can get their seat? Me too.