Another Night

In the last few days I've developed some sick obsession with Layne Staley, former (deceased) lead singer for Alice in Chains. It started with just watching a few of their videos on youtube, especially the 1996 unplugged show. It was one of the last shows all together, and Layne, though very sick did not die until 2002. Man, I just can't imagine heroin. Even my idiot crack head patients don't come in positive for heroin - other opiates, sure - fucking around with prescription pills they got from whatever. But not heroin. I'm not sure why I keep trying to read about this guy or his life; I guess it's a curiosity I have with the human condition. It's probably why I went in to social work. The strange coincidence is that the eighth anniversary of his death is in two days, and here I am wanting to learn about him. He does have quite a following even still, and one of the best comments I saw posted was "God, we'll give you Justin Bieber if you give us back Layne Staley." Hahahaha.

That aside, I got shit (nothing) done today. I went to work. Realized I'd forgotten my work keys and couldn't get into any buildings. So I went home and then came back. Worked for about an hour sorting through assessments. Realized everything was pretty well done and came home. At home I attempted to strip a piece of furniture but to no avail. The damn "pickling" technique my mother did to it more than 20 years ago is a real bitch to undo. Tomorrow I'm doing to go buy some acetone and kill the rest of my brain cells. I'm pretty sure I got buzzed off the shit today, and I did not like it. All I could think about was the patients I've had who huff and how horrible for them they are addicted to shit like that. Gross.

Still I wonder if the fumes didn't make me a little nutty otherwise too. For the rest of the day I kind of just hung out on my back patio and thought about life, that is after wiping an ass of pollen off my patio chair. At various points I talked to the pups, talked to my mom, and talking to no one came close to tears. Sometimes I just wonder if Joe and I will ever have any real time together. I think about the things I'd like to do and want to plan to do, and I can't do any of it. Like I said, the fumes got to me, as well as having only gotten the one letter and no calls in a two week time frame. Fuck man. It's hard. I'm tough, but I have limits too. This wraps up the fifth week of training....only seven more to go. Damn.

I know a lot of my posts are "slit your wrist" writings, so I apologize. Good things did happen to me today: talking with my mom was good and then later I talked to Joe's mom and that was really good too. The thing that probably pulled my head back above water (other than the ice cream I treated myself to after word vomiting to the female sandwich artist at Subway that I was alone on a Saturday night and had talked myself out of wings (wtf?)) was getting a text that read this: "Imagine motorcycle riding plus bee in Gene's jacket."

Yessssssssss.