Marc

It's Time for Detox: My body is killing me - literally. It's making me pay for three uninhibited nights of alcohol and blasting strangers, and more alcohol. God knows I tried to watch myself last night, but I just couldn't do it. Ended up passing out with Ravel's "Bolero" singing softly in the background. At least I'm not my neighbor, Grant, who passed out in our bathroom all night. I couldn't imagine that.

Some dude last night walked by and said something along the lines of "what's the cracka-lacka?" or "what's cracka-lacka?" or "what's up cracka-lacka?" Does anyone have a fucking clue as to what that's supposed to mean? Let me know if you do. Emails at the top.

This old stack and all of these, and your semester overseas, we're gonna leave you, Eddie Walker.

I honestly wish I had more to say right now, but regretfully, I don't. I'm getting ready to Come In and Pray to My Higher Power to help me put a box around every second of this day - to get through it. [and if you understand that, you'll also be happy to hear that I finished IJ - though I'm a bit miffed, b/c now I don't think I'll be able to read anything else for a while]

Such is the day.