Nerves. And vodka. But mostly nerves.

2002-06-24 - 3:55 p.m.

And I am so fuckin' nervous about tomorrow I can barely even breathe, newly liberated lungs and all.

I'm actually drunk on the dregs of a bottle of vodka from the weekend, even though I have yet to confirm my status of housing.

I am supposed to call my newly-liberal(as-opposed-to-leftist)Mom because she has no idea that I'll be in her favourite city ever tomorrow, getting tear gassed.

Or not. She (and I, hardeharhar) tends toward the most extreme version. Maybe that's because if I ever get killed by a bus running me over, neither of us will be -completely- disappointed.

Tear gas is likely like a bus. Except that cigarette smoke allegedly helps against its negative effects. Blah.

Cheers?

The Magus

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