My Hair Is Covered In Oil

…and wrapped in plastic wrap with a rubber band around it as a makeshift, highly uncomfortable shower cap.  Because I’m class.  And also because I give too much of a shit about my hair so I give it "oil treatments" once in a while and feel like a middle-aged housewife with no real hobbies for a couple hours, but it’s cool because then my hair feels magically soft.  MAGICALLY.  And then I think things like, "Man, someone would find it AWESOME to run their fingers through my hair right now!"  And then I realize that doesn’t happen right now, and I get sad, but whatever, maybe I will use my soft and shiny orange hair to attract a mate.

Yeah, I’m a little high right now.  SO BE IT.

Everything still kinda sucks, but I’m feeling like I’m on the upswing!  Even if the "upswing" involves intaking as many substances as I can while remaining conscious and cognizant, just to get through the empty weekend without thinking too hard about anything.

It’s fine, though.  It really is.  I think I’m going to be okay.  And I’ll be alone on Christmas, but there’s something strangely… perfect about that.  It just fits.  Fits with this time in my life.  It’s something I should experience, just to know what it’s like.  Just to be truly alone.

I’m romanticizing it a little–imagining myself standing on the edge of a bridge, drinking gin out of a flask and reading Tolstoy, or some equally depressing shit, and watching the Christmas lights across the city.  But romanticized or not… There are very few days when someone can feel truly alone.  When it seems crisp and real and free.  And Christmas is one of them.  And if I wanted to sit on a bridge, I think I could.  Or I could go explore that office building I pass on the bus every day–the one with the broken windows and the graffiti and the strange air vents hanging from the ceiling, and yet seemingly functional office space in the upper corner.  I’ve looked at it.  There’s no one around to stop me, and cops hardly ever go that way, and that’s some shit you do when you’re alone.

Or with someone really cool.  But I don’t know anyone that cool, and besides, the loneliness is a part of it.  Doing stupid weird shit with someone else is an equally beautiful, but entirely different, experience.

Ugh, I have a Walking Dead date.  i.e., I download it, he watches it on cable, and I have to start at the same time as him.  Except I have no commercials, so I always see the end first.  Suck it, Annoying Security Guard Dude.  I WILL ALWAYS WIN.

Anyway, gotta get on that.