Friday, June 19, 2009

The night in the life of me. Finally finished after 10 hours.

Last night the heat never did die down. No breeze to cool you off, no rain from the heaven to shower you with coolness, just thick hot air with the smells of any metropolitan area...car exhaust, the salt in the air, the urine of the homeless, the alcohol on the breath of the tourist passing you by on the street full of laughter, and the freedom that a vacation brings.



Eleanor my dog, and I were sitting on the patio watching from above the consistency of the city. the lights on in certain windows of the building directly across from us. The skate boards, and bikes riding to destinations unknown to me. The homeless man who every night sits on the Conner of Seven Eleven, every time you pass him he asks so sweetly for some spare change. Since I walk to the Seven Eleven 3 to 4 times a day always passing him by, whenever I have change to spare I give it to him.



Last night I didn't want to be the person looking down over the streets watching as lives are being lived, I wanted to go down onto the street, and live my life. My hair a mess without a wash in over a week pulled up into a bun at the top of my head. A light blue t-shirt with a long pink scarf wrapped around my neck in such a way it fell just bellow my breasts. I wore a pair of black pants, along with my flip flops and no bra. I took the elevator down to the lobby, and walked out of the lobby and onto the sidewalk.



Now I'm apart of the night and the city. I'm one of those people off to a destination only known by myself. I had decided to go to the bar my father frequents. As tonight he is not there, he is at home snuggled in bed with his wife, pills, and Television. I had 80 dollars on me, but I knew I could only use 20 at most. I didn't want to get drunk and miss out on all the night had to offer.
Plus I didn't want to spend the money I had saved up to buy Benzo's with.

I walk into the bar, and there are 8 different people in there. I go straight to the bar and take a seat, and order a Kiddy cocktail. The bartender, a younger man, probably 25-30 who looks over worked as if his shift is almost over, and he just wants to get out of there. He asks to see my ID, and I pull out the ID from my wallet and hand it over to him, he checks my photo, and date of birth. The photo was taken before all the fat had taken over my body. ....so he eyed me and the photo a bit longer than he would have if I had still been the thinner version of myself.



I sat at the bar until I finished my Kiddy Cocktail, then I ordered another, and went to the Juke box. I played Fiona Apple's Shadowboxer, Leonard Cohen I forget the name, and Territorial Pissings by Nirvana. For three songs it costed 5 dollars. That was it for me and the jukebox for the night. I may as well buy drinks for the alcoholic's that cannot afford a drink with the money I could have spent on the Jukebox.

When I went back to the bar stool, I was sitting in between two men whom seemed to be having an intense conversation. So I took my drink and purse, and walked over to the pool tables to watch two men play a game of billiards. One of the men was in his mid 20's the other I would guess in his late to early 40's. I didn't watch the game closely enough to see who won. I got board of that spot, and sitting alone, so I moved to the other side of the pool table where there was a woman in her early 20's and young man in his early 20's watching the game of billiards. I believe it was a game where the winner takes on the next guy. Yet it seems as though wherever I go everyone moves. I wonder do I smell, am I that disgusting. I had not looked in the mirror before I left the apartment.

I moved yet again back to the bar, but this time to a spot where I was alone, and wouldn't drive anyone away. By this time the bar began to become more and more crowded. The younger people sat at the tables by the near the pool table and dart boards, and the older crowed who were anywhere from their mid thirties, to mid 70's sat around the bar, and in the back which is where I was sitting the youngest person in bar. No one even approached me. My self esteem plummeted. I used to walk in the bar, and men would buy me drinks all night. I would have women hitting on me. I was always much more flattered when women hit on me. I always wish I wouldn't have been such a prude and stuck with Pete. At least I had Lindsey.

I forgot to mention I had zero, none, zilch of benzo's left to go home and and take to wrap myself up in my warm blanket of nodding with my dog, and blankey. So I leave the bar, and I sit down where I know drug dealers lurk around waiting for people like me to come out of bars and are looking to score, usually coke, or ice. My drug of choice would be hard to find, and when a dealer approached me and I asked if he had any bezos, and he asked me what are benzo's that i was screwed. God bless that dealers soul because he looked up, down, and all around for some Xanax bars for me. When I finally gave up and wandered back across the road to our apartment, I noticed how beautiful our pool is at night all light up. So I went into the pool area, and pulled my pants up to my knees to stick my feet in the pool. Oh baby, did that feel good. Cold water on sweaty dirty feet. All I wanted was to jump in. I contemplated jumping in with all my clothes on, but couldn't come to bring myself to do it. So I decided I would take off my pants, and my t shirt, and jump in. Fuck it everyone was asleep except my parents who called me over 22 times in four hours. I answered 15 of those time explaining to them I'm 26 I don't have to come home tonight, but I will be home just give me some time alone.

So I start to pull off my pants, and suddenly our security guard who is never around comes to the pool and says, "The pool closes at ten miss, I'm afraid your going to have to wait until morning". Without a word a slipped my pants back on, and walked through pool door which the guard was holding open. I walked to the elevator, with my purse, and wet flip flops and feet, and made my way up to out apartment, where my mom was still up reading, and my dad was lying watching TV. Normally my dad goes to bed at 7pm if he's not at the bar. I said, I'm home, and put on some Pajamas, and watched the shows I TVod until I feel asleep which was around 3am.

I think I proved the fact to my parents that I can leave the house by myself, go to a bar , stay out past 1am not drunk or high.

That pool felt so good that night, so tonight when it gets dark out, if my dad gets home from the bar before 10, I'm going to go for a swim. Bringing Eleanor with me. Today we finally go the tags that prove she is service dog, so I no longer have to watch my argue with people when they won't me in somewhere with Eleanor. My mom gets madder than I do. The fact is I do not have disclose why I need a dog for emotional support, and why that dog is only 5lbs, and is carried in a bag half the time. According to the Person's with disabilities act of 2006, all I have to do is show the person the who is asking for proof that my dog is a service dog, I just have to show the prescription paper my doctor wrote out. Now with the tag, I don't need that piece of paper with me every where. Eleanor can come in with me where ever I go. No questions asked.


This blog took me over 10 hours to write. I kept nodding out. I got a hold of benzo's today and yesterday. I'm using alot less now, weening myself off. I was eating 5 to 7 Valium a day, now I'm using one Xanax bar a day, and one Valium at night. Yay for me.





Must stop typeing now, nodding off, will finish when more awake.

9 comments:

Gledwood said...

I used to buy benzos a lot for a short time. But they're NEVER THERE when you need 'em!

Gledwood said...

ps thanks for the bipolar comment, I did finally get it. I will reply in a day or 2

AnnaGrace said...

Gledwood,

Isn't that the truth!!!
No problem about the Bi Polar comment. I forgot what I said in the comment, I'm going to have to go to that blog post, and read my comment to remind myself.

I'm losing too many braincells using, how the fuck can I become a better writer when I haven't many braincells left?


Ahh fuck it, I just push into '

Anonymous said...

anna, you are still gorgeous

Anonymous said...

BTW what happened with that guy you were going to meet, long time ago.. he was military or something like that
do u remember?

AnnaGrace said...

Anonymous 1,

Thanks for saying I'm still gorgeous. I'm betting we are either related or good friends from childhood.

Even if your are or are not someone I know, thank you.

I guess its better to be fat, with a good bone structer, because I can always lose the fat, but someone with ugly bonestruckter can't change that.

I forgot the saying, I can walk off the fat, but you can't walk off the ugly.

That's pretty mean to say. I know what it feels like to be called ugly most my life by my peers, and well to do it to someone else would not make me feel any better, in fact it would make me feel worse. Looks fade, eventually all we are left with is what we did with our lives, and what memories we have along with knowlege.

I'd rather be a genius than a supermodel.

Thanks for the compliment. You too are beautiful inside and out.
AG
XXX

AnnaGrace said...

As for the guy I was suppose to meet more than a few months ago. I had fun for one day, and never spoke to him again. He wasn't military though, he was from the Methadone Clinic.

Anyway, right now I'm much more attracted to women. Lipstick lesbians.

Don't worry if it's family or friends, I'm not going butch. I'm still a woman, and still like men, but I've gotten sick of men, they are the same in a sexual matter. Even in a I want to play video games, instead of go swimming, or go for a bike ride.

Sorry to all those guys who thought they were going to have a chance with me in a sexual way. ROFLMAO!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yet, I'm no better than any guy. I look at a women, and I want someone with good bone structure, and healthy body, big breasts. Funny, outgoing. Would rather seize the day than stay home. With a guy I would just want to sit home, and put needles in my veins filled with opiates, lay around fuck, and be high eat chocolate bars, and anything sweet.
I guess I want a Courtney Love type. Driven Ambitious, and wickedly smart, with wit that would spin your head. Who doesn't mind seedy bar, and underground scenes, sleeping in flop house one night, and in the president suit the next.
If I were to date a man, he would never measure up to the one I've always wanted since middle school.

I wish I could find Lindsey again. She was good in bed.

All my love,
AG
XXX

Anonymous said...

who's lindsey?

Brother Frankie said...

#1.. the bartender was not studying the pic making sure it was you. you had no bra on and he was checkin out da package hun.

#2... $5 on three songs... ouch.

#3.... if "I" was the pool security guard i would have at least waited till ya finished gettin outda the clothes and watched for a bit.(see #1)

you are beautiful
and loved as well
Brother Frankie
A Biker for Christ