ah, the old forgotten drunk post

It's funny how you forget...the glorious headrush swirl, the absence of all that angst that plagues you every other minute, the self-consciousness. It's funny how a few sips seem to make it all okay. I don't make a practice of drinking; in fact, I very rarely do it. But once in a while, it's nice to indulge...not just those sweet peach sips, but to treat myself - to a top, to a skirt, to a lipstick, to a pedicure, to looking and feeling my best. To letting it all go ("just let it all go at once/not piece by piece/like a whole bucket of stars/dumped into the universe" -- sleater-kinney, "get up"). We shall see in two weeks whether I've made any sense, but for the moment, I feel good, I feel happy, I feel sated, I feel okay. FOr a few minutes anyway, I don't feel like that awful failure, that fucked up girl who can't get anything right. I feel like a girl with something to say, who maybe has learned something in this decade of NYC living, who's ready for the next step.

Anyway, to make a long story short - I'm ready for my closeup. Check back in two weeks from today. In the meantime, Gothamist interviews this week and other assorted blog treats await. I may even take up baking someday soon.