2000-11-27 || 16:47:50

|| post thanksgiving not really brit pop hollywood yuckiness. ||

oh where do i start.

i got into my apartment at ten in the morning yesterday, after driving for six hours straight from the tragic dance club in hollywood. i do not like hollywood. i do not like clubs that advertise brit pop but do not play brit pop. it was terrible at first, but then michael and i made up a fun game of talking shit on all the people who passed by. and then i found my friends in the soul room (where the music was a little better.. they played a good who song..) and danced for twenty minutes and then it was time to go. i have the weirdest time dancing. i have no control over when i am able to do it. it's one of those things that is still hung up on my former shyness.. sometimes i feel very timid about it and can't find 'my groove,' as the kids say. but then sometimes it is okay and quite fun.

so it was 2:30 and time to go.. and after stopping at a gas station for directions and having to back track to the club to give back a friend's wallet kelly found in her purse, we were on our way back to san francisco.

i drove a while and began to hallucinate. being tired from true lack of sleep is such a different feeling from feeling tired. my eyes were wide open and i felt like there was a clamp on the back of my brain and i could feel myself floating away from my body... i couldn't feel my arms and legs. everyone else was asleep. i sang along to my music and tried to wiggle my hands and feet but it felt like the shadow of me was trying to escape. the brake lights in front of me took on different shapes and everything was shimmery and underwater. so i pinched michael's leg until he woke up and we played our usual assortment of car games. and it went on and on and we were finally home.

the front license plate of my sister's car fell off.

i got home and went to sleep and had dreams of the person who called and left a message at eleven. i watched so much tv. i ate too much. i secretly smoked two cigarettes. i wrote in my poor neglected journal. i read my journals from a year ago, just to get all the dates straight. i cried for a half hour after watching nature on pbs about chimpanzees. i never worked on my novel, and for this i am pathetic.

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