nothing days
2005-05-15 4:35 p.m.

i used to be able to brag, "i've drank a lot in my day, but i've never thrown up from it."

i used to. oh, well. first time for everything.

I woke up at 4 pm today, but there's no milk in the fridge for cereal, so I think i'll just go back to bed.

the kids in the park outside my window are making a lot of noise, I can't decide if they're beating each other up or playing soccer. Because honestly it could be either. I guess I could just stand up and look out the window to see for sure, but this is much more interesting. A sudden scream--could be either someone scoring a goal, or someone's skull caving in.

oh childhood!

Lately I've been really happy, really at peace. I mean except for when I was throwing up in a toilet. But even that was kind of peaceful, you know?

I've heard people say that throwing up when drunk is a nice release, because it makes you feel better, and you're too drunk to fully realize the discomfort of the act of vomiting. It's just like, "hey, I'm going to open my mouth, and then it will be better." So yeah, even throwing up is kind of peaceful...as long as you have enough liquor in you to make it so.

I'm going to miss London a lot. The city, and just, living on my own (nearly). I don't have classes any more, I only have one more test this wednesday and I'm not worried about it. So i wake up every day at whatever time I fucking feel like it, and the kids are outside beating the shit out of each other, and we're out of milk and I get to think, "crap I need to go shopping."

but that's great--that thought, and being able to have it. I can't explain it so well. "crap, I need to go buy more milk. and eggs and pasta." What a great, freeing thing.

My favorite part, though, is when i wake up --at whatever time, with the kids and the no-milk-- and I say, "well, what should I do today?" And usually, I decide that the answer is "nothing," and I roll over and wait for one of my flatmates to knock on my door or message me to say, "liz, we're going to chop chop. get out of bed." Then we go, we talk about the night. We talk about buying alcohol (it's legal, you know), and where we should go and which places have cover charges and which places have sketchy men that grab your wrist when you walk buy. We talk about who can't hold their liquor and how many tests Katrina has left, and Bert's terrible blazer, and where Anna went, and we pay the bill and leave.

I go home and look for my black top, but all my clothes are black it seems and they're all on the floor and I can't tell which one is which, and I'll borrow jewelry from Anna. We'll go out, spend money, take pictures, spend money, drink vodka and lemonade or archers, dance, go home and make food--pasta or hot dogs or peanut butter sandwiches or the occasional avacado. We'll walk around in our pajamas and go to bed at 4 am and say, "angel cafe tomorrow?" and someone from home will say, "what did you do today?" And I'll say, "nothing".

Nothing...it's so great, so much.