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2004-05-20 @ 10:46 p.m.
why am I listening to a crackhead?

Here is your horoscope for Wednesday, May 19:

You're one of a kind -- they've never seen anybody like you. With individuality like this, you're never alone. Most people are flattered by even a moment of your attention. Pick and choose your friends.

Huh? What friends?

I don't know, it must be PMS or something. I've been feeling really depressed the last few days. I did get the car fixed, in case you were wondering how I got out to Married Guy's yesterday (and no, it wasn't on a Harley).

I'm still very despondent about "A"'s impending departure and cry every freakin' time I think about it.

I basically had three people in town, up to now, I could depend on. "A", Married Guy and Zenshrink. Well, Zenshrink struck out last November when he decided to fondle himself in front of me during a session. "A", of course, is leaving in September and Married Guy? He runs so hot and cold (worse than me), I never know if we're going to be friends tomorrow or not. I know this is probably the PMS speaking. It has to be.

I wish I was as wonderful and delightful as my horoscope says I am.

Today was double art though. And you would think this would be a cause for celebration!! Went down to the crazy crazy place. My lesbian friend from group (we're only friends in group, not in real life), said she was going to be there, but never showed. I was really disappointed, because we had had a really nice conversation when she drove me home Monday night. She's a nice girl.

I'm trying to make friends with girls. I've just always had guy friends my whole life. I've only had one girlfriend and it was someone I met in high school.

So I was all alone in the art group at the crazy crazy place. Since I've been going for several months now, I just act all assertive and set the room up when I get there and ask for the keys to the art supply cabinet.

Since I was feeling so depressed and despondent today, and had taken a clonopin right before I left the house (because I couldn't stop crying) I decided to do an abstract painting. I figured I could get some of my angst and feelings out onto a canvas. I've only done one other painting in my life.

So while I was squeezing out some acrylic paints onto a plastic pallet, some whacked out African American chick came in and threw herself on the couch. She was humming and then singing along with the radio. I didn't say anything. She was bigger than me.

And then this heavy metal looking dude, with a long braid, came in with a cassette tape in his hand and asked if I minded if he played a tape. By then I had started painting, and didn't really want so many distractions, but hey, this is a mental health center and these people have as much right to be here as I do, so I said, I'll listen to anything but heavy metal.

Guess what he had?

Heavy metal

It was tape he had made in his garage. He said he promised he'd play it really softly but proceeded to blast it out of the stereo on the coffee table.

Thanks, fuckhead.

Fortunately my friend who runs the center came in almost instantly and said to turn it down. I guess the heavy metal dude was trying to impress the African American chick with the fact that he could play heavy metal music. He said the lyrics were based on when he used to shoot heroin between his toes. By now the chick was lolling her head back against the couch, smiling and again, humming aimlessly. I felt like I was in a bad 1980's drug flick. He finally said she could borrow it (the tape), if she'd give it back.

I figured she'd probably try to sell it for drugs once she hit the street. He finally left and then she was just laying on the couch. Or rather holding on while the room spun. She then looked up at my painting and said, "Wow, that's really beautiful.."

(YAY...critical acclaim from a whacked out drug addict. Now I can die happy)

And then she leaned forward as I was tossing paint a'la Pollock and said, "Oh wow, you shouldn't have done THAT in that one in the corner."

Oh fuck, there goes my art career. The crackhead, thinks I ruined my abstract painting...


Anyways, despite advice from the local friendly crackhead, here is my slightly flawed abstract painting.

I then went home after that, took a shower, got the freak on for a while (gotta have some fun, when you're despondent), took some naked pictures of myself with the digital camera (I really like one of them. I think its a keeper) and then got ready for my nude figure drawing.

And as far as I know, there was no stalkers waiting on Westfall, as I traveled towards the Community Center tonight.

Class was pretty uneventful. It was the skinny girl with mega armpit hair tonight. I did have a strange psychological event though. I was still feeling the affects of Sunday's class. I just could not draw. I totally stumbled through the first initial quick draws. I tried using those damn trapezoids. I really wanted to put to use what I had learned in the class, even though they had driven me crazy.

But they were totally tripping me up psychologically. I kept going "You suck" to myself after each drawing. I knew this wasn't going to be a good thing, if I did this for three hours...or theoretically forever, so I finally just made an agreement with myself, internally, that I would use the trapezoid thingie, but I also could and SHOULD still "BE ME" (as in draw all crazy and colorful).

It worked pretty well. I think I undid about 60% of the damage I did to myself on Sunday. No images to report from my class though. I didn't really like anything I did tonight.

So that's all the news that fit to print. Got my period tonight, so it looks like I'll be canceling my massage with Married Guy Friday. Hope he doesn't take it too hard. Maybe I'll tell him I'm going away for the weekend with the Harley guy.

Yeah, as if.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty