Now that I have detoxed from all the booze from the first three days, I can see the light again. About time. Ditched my enemy. Out to sabotage me. Doing his best to freak me out. Good old Owen. He did well yesterday. If Saturday to Tuesday were the best cluster of days I’ve had in L.A that I can remember, yesterday was a low point. With only one person to blame. I started looking up flights at one stage. Did not want to be here. Not on a plane either though. Didn’t really want to be anywhere. Went looking for a hole to hide in. Failed. Instead, I just did well freaking myself out. Pointlessly. I blame the gin.
Lists. Good old lists. Started making out lists yesterday of what it is I have to do. Everything I need to do. Never ending. Sorting out social security number, bank account, food shopping, gym joining, DJ gigging, acting, stand-up, writing new stand-up, writing more of the book, getting my camera fixed, contacting certain people back here of importance, contacting people back in Ireland, trying to get my Irish phone unlocked seeing as it’s not working for some reason, car hunting, did I really want to go through all that again, hunting down my stuff that I left here from the last time, trying to remember all that happened for the first three days, trying to write that down, buy a desk for my room, unpack, buying a microwave, buying a new or finding my old George Foreman, transferring numbers from one Emericano phone to another Emericano one, figuring out was I getting on a plane to somewhere and making out a new list of stuff I need to do on a daily basis. Good old endless lists.
Over, Under And Out
Writing all this down, while having a horrific hangover, was not really helpful. At all. Freaked myself out like never before. Muttering a new mantra to myself. Overwhelmed. Underprepared. Overwhelmed. And underprepared. Over. Under. Ovder. Oder. Oer. Or. Oh my sweet Jesus I’m going to lose my mind. It was all pretty dumb. Having harebrained conversations with people through various means online… Spacebook, Skype, Twitter and email. Making little to no sense of anything to any of them I can imagine. Trying to talk to my roommate. Voice absolutely goosed from the past few days. Kind of having no voice. Or no energy to string out a proper sentence. Just littering the air with random, pointless words. Mumbled.
The world then almost ended. As if one of the worst things that could happen, happened. I found out, that, I had, somehow, unimaginably, left a scissors at home in Ireland. A scissors! My scissors! The one I always use!!! That cuts in a certain way that no other scissors I have encountered cuts the same. How could I have?! Had to start taking deep breaths. Almost came close to making myself pass out over the thought of not having a scissors. (Out of all the home comforts, a scissors? Really?) My roommate has plenty. All shapes and sizes. I didn’t care. They weren’t the same. They wouldn’t do. I needed air. I had to get out of the house. So, I decided to go buy a new phone. I really needed a new phone. That would sort everything out. A phone. Even though I have two already. I needed a third.
Zombied my way up to the phone shop. Guy behind the counter couldn’t really understand my accent. Took a pamphlet from the shop and went back outside to read it. The pamphlet would help. Tell me which phone I needed for everything to be ok. The first step in the right direction. It was a confusing pamphlet. In Spanish. No help. I needed assistance from someone working in there. Walked back into the shop. Well, I walked back into the clear glass door of the shop. Stood there. Staring at the door. For longer than a few seconds. Defeated by the closed door. Wondering why it wouldn’t open for me. Feeling freaked that I couldn’t manage to buy a phone I didn’t even need. Took it as a sign. Just left instead of trying to open the door again. Seeing the guy behind the counter giving me strange looks.
On the way home I walked past the hotel I’d been having all the fun in for the past few days. Decided to call in to the pool to see if the English girls we had been hanging around with were there. I could bounce my hungover buzz off them. They’d be in the same boat. Big wave when they saw me. Felt at home. Sat down with them. They were in a different boat. A boozing boat. Full of energy. Full of questions. I could barely grunt out a yes or no. Ugh. Yuh. Ugh. Attempted to be normal by asking regular questions. That didn’t really make sense… ‘So why are ye on holidays this time of year?’ Why wouldn’t they be? They weren’t teachers or students. I knew this already. Told me they wanted to go on a holiday. Decided to go at this time. Oh right. Em. Tried to explain my school thinking process. In ughs and yuhs. Kind of threw me off. Told them I actually had to leave again. They all laughed. Sit down, chill out. I said I really had to buy a scissors. They laughed again, while I left. To a lot of puzzled looks and shouts of come back. I had to go buy a scissors. Which I did. And a George Foreman. Then went home. Slightly less freaked.
Anyways, to make a rambling story thankfully come to an end, I woke up today, unpacked all my stuff, went to the gym, think I sorted out two DJ’ing gigs already, had some chicken on the George Foreman and I was, eh, normal again. Back. Detoxed. Ditched Owen finally. Worst enemy ever. Baby steps. Although these are not even really steps. Feints in the right direction. My bigger goals should be right around the corner at this rate. I am sure. Wuu.
At least now that the weird hangover is gone, and that I had some chicken, and bought a scissors, and went to the gym, and even if I did bump in to the nutter there who stares at you like Herbert the Pervert from Family Guy, and that my voice is back, and that people are back to looking at me with confused expressions as they struggle to understand I too am speaking English, and seeing as all of that has happened, I can safely say that it is savage to be back in L.A! Pumped! Not that I was ever not. Although yesterday… More that I didn’t really know what was going on. A bit over and under on a gin hangover. Get over it. Wining and dining were great. My whining was not so great. Over. Although I would be lying if I said I’m happy with my new scissors. Owen is still giving me grief about that.
This song was playing on my iPod as I tried to figure out what was going on with the phone shop door. Did not help for some reason.
Boat Behind – Kings Of Convenience