Fear of sleep

You know what it says on the side of my package of Midol? The recommended does contains about as much caffeine as two cups of coffee. You know what I did at 8:30 this morning? I fucking took some Midol.

Anyone who's spent much time with me knows that my chemical balance is all tilted, and that a single cup of coffee turns me into Dean Moriarty like: EEEEE! and down to clinkers and over to sideways-echoing horn-sounds. He tried everything up, down, sideways, upside down, horizontal, thirty degrees, forty degrees, and finally he fell back in somebody's arms and gave up and everybody pushed around and yelled, "Yes! Yes! He blowed that one!"

Okay that Kerouac bit is about a tuba player or something but seriously I get very excited. Not necessarily, you know, fun to be around, but yes worked up and internally frothy.

Likewise, a single unit of alcohol turns me into William Burroughs. I start talking slow and my accent gets, why not, sort of Virginian, and I'm liable to tell people that THIS, GENTLEMEN, IS A DEATH DWARF. But Burroughs I guess made that work for him and I don't. I mean I end up looking like an idiot. Nobody respects an lightweight, do they? It's like Sachi once said about telling people she's slightly lactose intolerant. It makes people suspicious. Plus: I spill things.

It's only 2pm and already I've had quite a day. I walked Happy around Quilchena park and got caked up to my knees in mud. And I drank black tea (this was before the Midol), and I had incredibly painful appendicitis-like cramps (this was what got me to the Midol), and I drove to Gastown.

I had to wait around for ages for Richard Kidd to open, because I wanted a specific pair of jeans. My parents gave me some money at christmas to buy clothes with. Underline clothes. My parents like clothes? I forgot about the money until I saw the jeans, (Shannon had the jeans), and then I remembered. But before the store would open there was time to kill, so I wandered around Gastown taking pictures of misguided Canadian souvenirs intended for, apparently, blind tourists. Then I bought the jeans. Also, I had chocolate milk. I'd had the Midol at this point and was humming and buzzing through the streets. Gastown was pretty deserted, and I could hear noise from the direction of Chinatown. Probably the parade. I was glad I hadn't come from that direction. Traffic makes me crazy when I'm crazy.

Then I went to Oakridge mall, to get my Kozydan print framed. I'd been putting that off because I imagined it would be tedious and costly. Which it was. Then I went into the Bay to find some of those, you know, plastic sheets that fit in your wallet? To keep credit cards in? And I totally found them. And I rejoiced with more spending of the money.

There is very little money left.

I avoided the Electronic Boutique and raced home. To pee! To blog! And my dad had brought me a chai latte from Starbucks! But I only had a taste. Just a sweet taste. Because I know my limits. I AM IN CONTROL OF MY OWN INTAKE. Three times fast.