Stoned in Rehab

The title says it all. Well, technically I'm no longer a client at the rehab because my insurance wouldn't pay--but I still reside at the sober living house--at least until Wednesday. I'll have a couple thousand dollars from working at Coachella and Stagecoach so I'll be able to get a place somewhere. I don't know where, yet. I'm going to LA until I fly back to Georgia on Saturday--just in time for mother's day.

Oh, this is for Dylan, by the way. Friend not lover. Gorgeous, though.

My current lover lives in the sober living house across our backyard fence. He's a gypsy psychic. I'm going to miss him. I'm going to miss a lot of people I've met here. I would describe them all, but I will save that for another page or chapter or blog entry or whatever this is. Labels are so passe. Lawl.

I was listening to Stereloab on my headphones which brought me out of my pot-enduced panic I was having after conversing with so many people who shouldn't know that I'm stoned. I told Andrew, though. He understands. I'm sure a couple others would, too, but whatevs. Maybe one day they'll read it. I love you. I feel like I shouldn't use names, though. Sorry, Andrew.

Time is weird. Time is really fucking weird. Relationships are really fucking weird. Most come and go like the wind, but some hang around, even if you don't see them for forever. Forever is never forever, though. Fiona Apple's cover of Across the Universe is playing now. It's nice.

Nothing's gonna change my world. That's true. My world will always be my world. And yours will be yours. And ours will be ours. Presence is all we have. This is it, kids.

Everyone who is gone is still there. That moment is still there, and it will be there eternally.

Jai guru deva.

Currently I am in the desert surrounded by people who at this very moment are the closest in the universe to me emotionally and geographically, but at other points in spacetime I am having the same experience with different people in the Huddle House in Cochran, The Farm in Glenwood, Aglago in Silverlake, Cassey's dad's house, Yva's in Brooklyn, Kate's in Savannah and Allentown, The Venice Beach Boardwalk, Hostel Earphoria in Chicago, The McMansion in Sandy Springs.... and then my mind goes to hanging out with all my dead friends. I miss them all. Randall went last, so I especially miss him. Plus he was my bestest guy friend ever. :( Poop. But YES, remember to be aware. Remember it's all just an illusion. He's not dead. There's no such thing.

Fucking eh, he really is dead though. So is Sharon. And Joey. And Antone. Billy. Jan. Pat. Justin. Heather. Lindsay. Grandma. Granddaddy. Granny. Granddaddy Pettis. Uncle Tommy, Glen, and Harvey. Holy shit I've been to way too many funerals. It's okay, though. I'll go to mine one day, too.

Je ne sais pas. I need some coffee. Andrew just walked by with a big container of it in his hand. I also want a cigarette. And I should probably eat, but my leftover pizza smells weird because the refrigerator was pretty disgusting.

I'm going to go for a ride, I think.