May 9, 2013
I decided against rehab. I just feel clean and clear and maybe ready to start fresh. I want to see if I can stay clean, I want to try. I guess if I mess up, I’m not completely opposed to going to rehab, but right now, I want a little freedom.
As a result of the gangsta’s attack, I have mild and presumably temporary frontal lobe damage. Which means I may have low inhibition and inappropriate behavior (doesn’t sound like anything new), anger and agitation (yep that too), unaware of the consequences of my actions (nice), and then there’s slowed speech, some specific processing issues like sequencing (yet I seem to be making a list quite well), and apathy, fixation, and other stuff. So yeah, temporary. It’s kind of a mini lobotomy I’ve got going on here. Now I have an excuse to be completely obnoxious and no resource to feel guilty about it or regret my actions in any way. Awesome.
I fortunately didn’t get any significant damage at the back of my head since my back and shoulders took most of the hit from the chair. But it was weird because things were kind of fucked up for me for a while. It would take me some time to recognize people, I often felt really small, everything was distorted, I saw in colors that didn’t make any sense, one of my arms was bizarrely shorter than the other one, I had strange hallucinations like I felt as if there were ghosts all around me. I’m ok now, although I get a strange electrical like flash now and then like a camera has gone off directly in my face. It’s taking me a long time to write this journal entry, longer than usual, because I don’t want it to be unclear, so I’m repeating each sentence over and over before I write it so I can avoid mistakes. It’s kind of annoying.
I have stitches in my shoulders, at the back of my head so I have a huge bald spot now even though my hair was growing in from when I shaved it before. I have stitches on my forehead. I have a broken nose so I have two black eyes.
I’m also clean of all drugs and alcohol including caffeine and nicotine. That’s nuts. I haven’t been like that since I was probably 9 years old. There’s an immense pressure to stay this way, and a huge urge to go out and get really fucked up, but I’ll try to fight that for a while.
Paula picked me up yesterday with my parents, so weird to see Paula and my mother together since they’re nearly the same age, I can tell they feel awkward about it. But Paula’s a nice person and my parents just want me to be happy so they’re hardly going to try to dictate something about my life unless it’s harmful. We went to a restaurant and passed by a smoker on the way in and the smell of cigarettes almost gave me an orgasm.
Inside the Italian restaurant all I could smell was wine and Sambuca and I wanted liquor so much, it was very distracting. I don’t remember the last time I had an Italian dinner without red wine, and some Sambuca, and Anisette, and it’s been a while since I’ve had rosolio but I’m wanting it now. My Nana, God rest her soul, used to make the best rosolio. I remember sampling new whiskeys that my grandfather used to get. My dad, my grandfather, and my great uncle and I would sit around with a new whiskey my grandfather got and say, “ahhh bellissimo!” and have long conversations about how good it was and how it compared to others in the past. Now and then we had cigars. This was when I was in high school and I felt very Sicilian, like a real Sicilian from Sicily, not like an American. I also felt like a man, since I was treated like one. First my great uncle died, then when my grandfather died, things changed. That was followed by another uncle, my Nana, and then my grandmother. Now there’s little left to that side of the family besides estranged relatives, and a couple close ones I never see.
Anyway, I have a lot more to say about yesterday but I don’t feel like saying it right now so maybe I’ll make another journal entry later, I have a head ache now and my eyes are getting a little blurry and it’s too much of a struggle to make any sense since the pen feels like it has a heart beat and I’m beginning to lose track of what I’m saying when I repeat the words to myself they have no meaning. So yeah, later I guess.
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Hasty is a character based on the one and only Hasty at http://hastywords.wordpress.com/ Thanks Hasty, this was awesome!