The good thing about the coke cure is that it helps with my cough. No, seriously. Just a little bump and I'm fine. Another bump and I’m even better. A third bump and the cough is practically gone. When did this cough start, anyway? It feels like I’ve always had it. Sure, it’s a little uncomfortable in my throat, but what a perfect distraction: a faggot with dyed hair and a purse, coughing for the cameras: AIDS alert in aisle four. “Camera’s ready, prepare to flash.”
Avery, you’re right, you’re right, this is fun. Fun for the whole family. Whose family? “Brighter days, I’m looking for a -- brighter days…”
But shit I have to be home for Ned, at least for a few minutes, right, what am I making for dinner yes dinner, do you want to come over, no, probably not a good idea, I mean not right at this moment.
Why not at this moment? You don’t want him to see you with your bitchy boyfriend?
I don’t want him to see me with my bitchy boyfriend when we’re both coked out of our minds.
I am not coked out of my mind, I’m coked into my mind.
I wake up the next day singing, “I think I love you, what am I so afraid of, I’m afraid that there’s no cure for…” — what are the rest of the words? “No cure for… No cure for…” Avery, do you know that song, who sings it? “I think I love you…”
Yes, I’m in bed with Avery. I stayed over at the haunted house. Told Ned I was studying late. I couldn’t help it, really, there’s a lot to study. Like those freckles on Avery’s back, I’m keeping track of those cute freckles.
“What am I so afraid of…”
Yes, yes — that’s the one.
I’m just imitating you.
Well, you looked pretty cute while you were doing it. What time is it?
2:30 in the afternoon — I can’t believe you slept this late.
When don’t I sleep until 2:30, that would be a better question.
I’ve got something for you.
Girl, it’s too early for lines, first I need breakfast.
Absolut in the freezer.
There’s still Absolut in the freezer? Someone needs to throw that shit out. Let’s get some Stoli — now, that would be good for breakfast. But first I need oatmeal.
Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.
I am not eating Cocoa Puffs.
The way it all blends together, one day and then the next. One store and then the next. One line and then the next. The day we take a whole shopping cart full of canned food out of Star Market. And then the next Star Market. And the next. Honey, we’re getting a tour of all the Star Markets, that’s for sure. Who’s the star now?
What’s next? Not Bread & Circus; I can’t risk getting banned from Bread & Circus. What about Safeway, do we have Safeway in Boston? Shoes, where can we get shoes? Urban Outfitters, girl — they keep the shoes in the boxes. No way, are you serious? Well, not after our lovely visit — empty boxes. Should we go back to the sporting goods stores for boots, yes, boots, homeless people need boots, right? What about the surplus store, I don’t want to get new leather. Although those boots are kind of shit, I mean I’m wearing a pair right now, soles taped up with duct tape and I know it’s glamorous and all, but it doesn’t actually work that well. Except when you pick me up in the Mercedes.
That feeling in my head, where am I, that feeling when I’m sitting with Ned and he’s speaking and I’m trying to pay attention — oh, right, another cocktail, thank you. That feeling in my head, so warm and cool at the same time, blending these pills and powders and potions and yes, that feeling in my head, hold me.