From Yale to Jail

A thirty something Ivy Leaguer keeps the public aware of her opinions on things topical and struggles with multiple demons: alcohol, the law and remaining effortlessly hip in a changing world.

Sunday, July 17, 2005

We came home from the hotel at 2am. I was homesick and anxious and depressed. I couldn't relax. By the pool I did but I mean in the room in the night while my husband was sleeping. I am just unhappy. I don't know why I take myself so seriously. No one else does. I am a silly vapid creature. Vain. Self important. When out of my element for two days my brain goes to such dark places. It's better to be home. Wouldn't it be funny if that were true.

Saturday, July 16, 2005

They're coming to take me away...

AND for once it's not a psych ward. We are checking into the Plaza this afternoon and I will be gone until Monday evening. See ya soon!

Sunday, July 10, 2005

The Long Kiss Goodnight

Oh wow I have been awake for almost 31 hours. I am going cold turkey. Not off heroin. Not off coke. Not off alcohol. Antipsychotics. Antimanics. Antidepressants. I am incapable of doing things slowly right now. Instant karma's gonna get ya. And miles to go before I sleep. I have enough tranks to take down Capitol Hill but I am okay for now. I am not strung out. I have been posting. Posting away on one of my boards. Hell, I should have been blogging for you, all my dear dear friends. Coughing fit. Okay. Well. I just hope this doesn't wrinkle me. You know speed up my aging. These growing pains. Liz Taylor said that's how she kept her looks so long. It was all the sedation.Thats what I have had. Not sanity. Sedation. Not peace. Pills. Freedom is not being beholden to the bottle. okay okay I still take stuff for my stomach. I can live through psychosis but not acid reflux.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

I know what I know if you know what I mean?

Do ya? My mother told me my fans missed me. I mean my one fan. Hello Rita. It is easier to post entries when I was writing to myself. I started a new blog "Old Bloated and Envious" but I never posted to it either. I wanted my anonymity. But I want people to know me. I want to write. Write what you know they say. What do I know? Nothing. I thought I knew eyeshadow. But then I came in contact with women who owned twice what I did. Oh well. I used to know Northpark Mall. I used to stalk my wishlist there. It is many miles away and I do not have the energy. I know my dreams. Not my dreams of the future but the ones that haunt me. I am always stuck in Dallas with no ID so I can't get a plane. There are warrants for my arrest and there is no escape. I have to go to Uncle Lou, what we convicts called Lou Sterrett Jail. Oh, I know pills. Psychotropics. Obsession. Ugly Men. One Night Stands. Oh do I know those. These dumb blog bitches who think they are sluts. please. You don't know slut like I know slut. Have you ever spent the whole night with a guy-fucked him him on his coffee table and let him take polaroids-and not figured out until the next day that he had a flipper for a hand? Or lived with a guy for a week and found his teeth in a cup? What a drunken whore. ok, I admit it-it was kind of fun.