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This will be my 3rd night trying to go to sleep without being stoned. Last night really sucked. In that miserable non-drowsey but half-asleep insomiac state I thought to myself "I'd curl up with a corpse right now just to feel somebody (get it, body hahaha) next to me" and at one point I had myself convinced that if only I'd kept my toenails trimmed, the feet of my soul wouldn't have tangled up in my hair and I'd still be dead from that first overdose. It made sense to me last night. Interestingly, I cut my toenails this morning, even the ones that have been growning-in since the second trimester of my pregnancy (about a year ago). --really jo if we're gonna talk about self-surgery and in-grown toenails then we shoulda stayed in bed-- so OK gabe's novel is actually pretty good. I'm only a hundred pages into it but I bet it turns out REALLY good. And I'm jealous. I want to succeed, I want to DO something. Funny that his main character feels the same way, and that the book so far has been encouraging. I feel that Gabe went through the change that his character will go through, and maybe I can learn something from this. He also signed the book on the title page and then underlined a part of the dedication page, then put a smiley face on this. I'm pretty sure I'm being referred to here, not personally, but in with a group. I'd have to go get the book to quote it word for word.

Yeah, still no paper, but it's all starting to make sense, the depression should be gone soon, and the "writer's block" hopefully will follow.

Back to the weed. I could scrape the bowl for enough to fall asleep, and I oughtta because I really need to get the paper done tomorrow, and should rest well tonight. Greg's got Skootch tomorrow after church and overnight until after my dietician appt Monday morning. I'll be Skootchie-free for over 24 hours for the first time since she was conceived. I was thinking today that I was so against having kids, me and Prett took a vow not to pass along our fucked up genes, and it amazes me that she turned out so smart and beautiful coming from greg and myself and how mysterious and surprising DNA can be. We won't ever all look the same, no matter how much inter racial breeding, or genocide is committed, DNA doesn't play by those rules.

Anyway, back to the weed... In arguing with my mom about not wanting to get on bipolar meds/anti-depressants again, I said to her that life isn't worth living if I gotta take a pill every day just to make life endurable... and later thinking more about what I said, that's what I smoke weed for. So we'll see how far I can get without it. Maybe the cure is the disease? I know I dont have much left in me, starting fluid or start over juice or whateveryouwannacallit. I also know that if I were to kill myself that I would take Skootch with me, there isn't anyone else qualified to raise her, she is MY blood, and my genetic property. You don't bury half of a body, she's coming with me. Because of that, it's obviously crucial to make it through this summer. of course I will (cuz I always make it through), but I want to be better at the end, and not worse for the wear, which is usually the case. I need to get my head on straight for the surgery. Being practically handed a "hot body" is akin to Von Hindenburg handing over the chancellorship to Hitler. My weight is the anchor to reality, the only noticable flaw and the only real hurdle.

Always remember to quit while you're ahead.

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