But I Knew The Sense Of Worthlessness She'd Have To Raise Above

Feeling very guilty about getting drunk four times in twenty-four hours. I'm washing my running clothes right now, and I want to go for a run in a bit.

I'm also way, way, way baked at the moment, and have never gone running while stoned before. So doing that on a beautiful San Francisco July 4 afternoon should be interesting.

I told a few people that I planned on getting back on Facebook this weekend. So I did that today. Facebook welcomed me back by suggesting that I add Jessica as a friend. Fucking terrific. Just seeing her little micro-profile thumbnail pic was like, "Really? That wasn't what I needed, Facebook." Facebook doesn't care, though.

Craptastic. I'm already thinking about her enough as it is this weekend. This is the one year anniversary of our move, two years ago we were chilling at Dolores Park, and yesterday I asked a mutual friend to inquire about getting my share of the deposit back on our place. I knew this weekend could be rough for me -- I told my shrink as much -- but I'm a little surprised at how much it's gotten me down.

I don't think getting drunk four times in 24 hours helped, either.

And Steve McNair! What kind of bullshititude is going on with the world today?

It`s Been The Worst Day Since Yesterday

A Receipe For A Bad Day:

1) Be hungover;
2) Have a cold;
3) Be so busy at work because you're covering for somebody else who is out sick for the week, that you wind up falling behind on your own work;
4) Wake up at 6:30 am, unable to sleep, and start drinking beer and smoking pot until you fall asleep at 8:20;
5) Wake up again at 9:30, which coincidentally is the same time you should be arriving at work;
6) Be fat and depressed and lonely and know it.

Bah.

I bet there'll be a lot of lonely San Francisco teardrops fall tonight

I just done saying a prayer on the roof my building. Kinda funny thing for an atheist of fifteen years to do. Making it worse, I was fucking crying. Praying and crying? I don't think I had done that since one of my dogs ran away when I was nine.

But tonight, I wasn't praying to Allah or anybody like that. I was praying to San Francisco. The same dirty, stinky, loud city that I live in the middle of. Being up on the roof at night, surrounded by buildings and lights and giant Pepsi ads, I remembered, for a moment, what it was like when I first moved here in 2002. I was so full of hope, and I wasn't going to fail, like I had failed every other opportunity that had come my way before. This city was new to me, different, exciting. I was finally where I wanted to be, and the next six years or so were a long, educational journey that finally culminated in what I had always wanted and dreamed about.

Predictably, that fell apart faster than an Iranian earthquake shelter.

Tonight, I prayed to this city to help me, to give me one more chance. I promised I wouldn't fail this time. I can't fail. I got nowhere else to go.