aaaaaaaaaah. i feel so rough. no wonder, i drunk myself neigh on death last night, a fist full of diazepam (to celebrate my ‘out of the woods- i think my cluck is over’ (the physical pain part- roll on months of non-sleeping, depression etc. etc.). and the clocks went back, so i’ve had one less hour. i got all excited when i woke at 7am, thinking fuck i am getting better (you can’t sleep when you come off opiates, even with shit loads of sleepers and valium) but no, it was technically 6am. never mind. i don’t know how i got home last night but i did. i had to be carried to bed and upon waking, and waking up my mate, he told me i had given him a rough night, rolling about, stealing covers. when my eyes opened, fuck, my head was swimming. i was still in my clothes (which always indicates my incapacity from the night before; i can’t even undress myself if i get too wasted). got up, downed a big glass of orange squash, woke Mike, and wayhey, he produced a bottle of ASTI MARTINI from the side of the bed. god, thats one of my fave drinks. ASTI for breakfast with the first morning cigarette, heaven.

Hmmmmmmm…… I might go to church. Or just sit here getting drunk. Must see my twin nieces today. And stop reading my massive collection of heroin-related books. Like Christiane F, Junk, Nikki Sixx Heroin Diaries.

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