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2003-10-23 @ 2:09 p.m.
using drugs for inspiration - just say no

I just got back from taking my artwork down to an art show which is opening tomorrow. I took three pieces. Two photos: a picture of a Goth girl in a cemetery and a skylight, and then a collage with text called Night Terror.

Its the show I've been waiting for for about two months. It's only for one day and we can invite family and friends, but I have been unable to get up the courage to do that. I'm afraid they'll say no and I'll feel rejected.

Yeah, having low self esteem is so much fun. I do have an appointment in the building tomorrow, so at least I'll be able to see the show and hopefully they'll spell my last name right, which nobody ever does for some reason.

I know I have artistic talent. The one skylight photo has already been hung in the local museum, which has also housed work by such folks as Jackson Pollack, Picasso, Edward Hopper. Oh and, Yoko Ono, but we won't mention that here.

This photo was part of an amateur show naturally. The museum big wigs would sponsor an amateur show every year and come look at work by employees at local companies and then select a few from each place if they deemed them museum-worthy and then have a show at their museum. And every year I would submit some work, I would be selected.

I da girl, uh huh, uh huh! (happy dance). Uh huh, uh huh!

This photo was even used in the slick magazine the museum produced to promote the show. So I guess it was pretty good and ok to submit to THIS show which is far less prestigious.

But I still can't get up the courage to ask my family or friends or even my shrink to come have a look see at it. Somebody should really whack me long side the head. I mean really.

I'm actually a little nervous about the collage. The photos I know are good. My collage is a little weird. It's something I did when I was detoxing from drugs a couple of summers ago. One day, in my infinite wisdom, I decided I didn't like Paxel (a depression medication) anymore, so I just stopped taking it. Cold turkey. Boom.

Now I have a history of doing inane stuff like this. I've taken a lot of meds over the years and if they're not working, I usually don't confer with anyone, I just confer with me, and stop taking it. Yeah, I know stupid.

Well, Paxel turned out to be a little more formidable than I planned on. I got pretty wacky. Well, lets say....WAY WACKY.

It was summer and I was living in a second story apartment. I had an air conditioner in the window. In the nights following my Paxel withdrawal, I started to get really fearful of the strangest things. Like that little creatures were crawling in around the edges of the air conditioning unit in my window. I would lay in bed and swear I could see bony little fingers pulling back the accordion edges of the air conditioner and I would be frozen with fear laying there. Of course, once they got in, what were they going to do to me? Ah, ha, never ask a creative freaked out bipolar a question like that. Because they're likely to tell you.

I was also scared of this kimono. I had it hanging on the back of my bedroom door and it would reflect in my dresser mirror and it would look like a big Samurai warrior standing in the shadows. I was really shaky. And I could also hear things in the ceiling.

I also made my one and only half hearted attempt at committing suicide during this week and a half. I had gone to my father's house and was so distraught at his mental health (he had Alzheimer's), that one night I sat in his second floor window (which was actually closer to three levels up since he lived on a steep hill) with my legs dangling out for close to an hour. The only thing that kept me from doing it was that I knew I would probably fuck it up and land on my head and become a paraplegic, so I finally pulled myself in the window and ate a pint of Cherry Garcia ice cream instead.

But anyways, back to the night while I was withdrawing from the Paxel I went to bed around 12:45. At 1:06 a.m. I woke up (or at least I thought I woke up) to a bedroom bathed in cold blue light. The air seemed absolutely electrified, like someone had thrown a toaster in a bath tub and we were in the water feeling the effects. A huge whoosh of air ripped my sheet and cat right off the bed in one swift movement. I tried to turn on my lamp switch but it wouldn't work. I could feel the presence of someone right outside my door. The kimono was billowing in the mirror. There was a loud electrical crackling in the air. I tried to get up, but felt like I was trapped under one of those lead aprons you wear when you get x-rays. But this one was much heavier. And it had me pinned to the bed. And it had a life of its own. It was moving and breathing and shifting its weight. I felt like there were hands holding my feet to the bed. My throat felt constricted but I was still able to whisper out, in kind of a strangled voice, "who's there...who's there..."

no answer.

"is there somebody there?"

I reached back and tried to turn on my lamp again and suddenly...

The light was already on and the cat was laying at the edge of the bed sleeping. I could see the kimono reflected in the mirror. The hallway outside my bedroom was dark, but appeared to be empty. And I was shaking really badly.

I was also drenched in sweat. My heart was racing so fast, I thought it was going to explode. And I was afraid to get out of bed. I was afraid to look out in the hallway. And I was still afraid that someone was standing there. Waiting...breathing...

The clock said 1:13.
It took me a good 15 minutes to calm down, and when I finally did, I slowly approached my bedroom door, and looked out. And out there, was just the hallway. And beyond that, was just a living room. I then turned on every light in the entire apartment and looked out at the rest of the apartment complex. It was dark elsewhere, except for a faint blue glow from the moon. I was still trying to sort out what was real and what wasn't. I did grab the kimono off the hook on the bedroom door and jammed it into my tiny hall closet.

So that's how I came up with the idea for my collage. You like? I think taking photos is a lot easier though. Point and shoot. Get 'em printed up at Walmart. No drug withdrawal necessary for inspiration. But you know us artsy types. We live for drama.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty