Thursday, August 3, 1989

Well, I just had the grandest time calling people and billing the calls to Nervous, since the asshole won’t answer his phone. He’s got it unplugged for sure. What took him so long to pick up the hint of what we were up to? He probably won’t plug it in till tomorrow, or this morning, I should say, at around 7:00 when he goes to call his mommy.

I made a call to Fran, but as usual, he wasn’t there. He’s probably at Bobbie’s. I also called Ann and Harry B, my foster parents from when I was 16 but gave them the silent treatment. They were great foster parents. It’s just that they’ve ignored me ever since I left them. Makes me feel a bit slighted.

I’ve tried several times to wake up Andy, but it ain’t doing any damn good so I guess I’ll try to sleep myself for a few hours. I wish I could snap my fingers and make it beach time, but since I can’t, I better sleep or else I’ll be dead tired.

Later...

Can you believe this fucking shit! I still can’t sleep. I haven’t been sleeping much lately. Either I sleep too much or hardly at all. I’m on such a screwy schedule. I gotta start eating and sleeping right and why the fuck did I ever have to start smoking again after 3 fucking days of quitting! I’m so pissed! I’m so short of breath and all stuffed up and my singing sucks, and I still don’t know for sure if it’s mostly smoking and maybe also allergies too, or what. This definitely is not caused by Sasha and I want her back! It’s a curse from God! I’m so fucking wound up and one pissed-off motherfucker!!!

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