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At the park Friday night at 9 pm
Aug. 17th, 2013 01:56 pmI met up with Lyzeth Thursday night. She helped me with grades and translating for non-English speaking parent contacts so I bought her dinner at Furr's Cafeteria afterwards. After a meal of citrus chicken and buttloads of starches-- mashed potatoes, scalloped potatoes-- we went to Diego's where he gave me a tiny joint. Last night Lyz picked me up and I lit up (had to use a Leatherman scissors as roach clips) and we loafed on a picnic table at a nearby park. I wanted to go up the Palisades and smoke up the mountain overlooking Mesa Street, but we stayed nearby.
My high was ruined when I remembered that I had forgotten to call a kid's parent over some issues after school. God dammit, even after hours this job haunts me.
The grass made me sleepy and thirsty so we went to a Seven Eleven for Slurpees and chips for Lyz and buttercream cake balls in 3 packs for me. I was so tired I fell asleep doing laundry. I didn't even brush my teeth. And while I was in the downer phase of my high I streamed Monster Rancher cartoons and finished off with that ATT&T Anti-Texting video with the victims' survivors talking about their loved ones' deaths. It's the disabled kid that depresses me the most. Or specifically, not HIM but the IDEA that brain damage can be so devastating that it can vastly alter one's speech, the ability to button a shirt, and so on. And I should know. I spent the whole damn summer in hospitals and rehab clinics among stroke, heart attack, and car accident patients.
My high was ruined when I remembered that I had forgotten to call a kid's parent over some issues after school. God dammit, even after hours this job haunts me.
The grass made me sleepy and thirsty so we went to a Seven Eleven for Slurpees and chips for Lyz and buttercream cake balls in 3 packs for me. I was so tired I fell asleep doing laundry. I didn't even brush my teeth. And while I was in the downer phase of my high I streamed Monster Rancher cartoons and finished off with that ATT&T Anti-Texting video with the victims' survivors talking about their loved ones' deaths. It's the disabled kid that depresses me the most. Or specifically, not HIM but the IDEA that brain damage can be so devastating that it can vastly alter one's speech, the ability to button a shirt, and so on. And I should know. I spent the whole damn summer in hospitals and rehab clinics among stroke, heart attack, and car accident patients.
