Wow, I forgot about the artpt2.

This blog is covered in cobwebs. A thick layer of dusts coats the scroller bars and evidence of the last post, a shitty drug story by John that he forgot he wrote. He looks back at this writing and thinks "is this some strage me in a Hunter Thompson phase. Did I lose my mind at one point and decide to write a few pages at school during lunch?" He tries to remember and comes to the conclusion that he wrote it in the library when he was supposed to be in math. Jessy seems to have taken the project a bit more seriously, as she posted something worth reading.

stupid poem....kinda

oh me, oh my
how time does like to fly
and whether it flies here or there
time tends to fly everywhere!
so heres an ode of a type
to get this week started off right.
remember weekends come and weekends go
and mondays always really slow
and tuesdays kind of a plain joe.
wednesdays hump day (didn't you know?)
thursdays here now we're almost done
and fridays here time for fun.
in any case, as you can see
time goes by fast for you and me!

-have an awesome week.
----jessy (aka the real dr. seuss)

may be maybe

I wrote some lines with you in mind
waiting on the laundry this cold rainy day
I thought about it and took it back
why does it have to be so cold anyway?

I lied when I said
it. didn't matter.
lines drawn from the same basic string.
Could you care, maybe?

I thought things over again.
Realized that you wouldn't understand
you couldn't understand.
you can't, maybe...

I prayed you'd try
but I know it won't help
it can't help, you can't help
the rain over my head, sheets of blood.

Closing my eyes I find my strength
All I ever need is maybe.

Drugs.

I wrote a poem for Alyssa. I was thinking of Annie when I wrote it, but Annie hasn’t left yet. I’m starting to feel the eminent mental collapse that comes from massive drug use and no sleep. I can barley walk. Driving is out of the question. I can’t move right. Overall, we did Motion pills, snorted Vicoden, smoked an insane amount of pot, not to mention the cocain and the acid. We were all too scared to try the acid, but I knew that it will come soon. Adena walked out of the room. Me and Jeremiah are sitting on the floor. He has some Opium. He would be hitting that soon too. I try to think. How many days has it been? Two. Maybe three? The sun is coming up and I feel like sleep.

“Fucker!” I woke up. The Motion pills were still working but everything else was gone.
“What?” Adena grabbed my arm and gently helped me up. We walked over to the mirror table that Adena made last night. All of our drugs are on the table. We have an eightball of cocain, which I refuse to do too much of, two hundred tightly rolled joints, and a bag of opium. We also had three kegs, three bottles of jack, three bottles of Vodka, twenty hits of motion pills, three hits of acid each, two bottles of Vicoden and Perceden, Concerta, Valium, and OxyCotton. Adena is the keeper of the drugs. She is our pharmacist. She has certain ground rules like: If your doing pills, don’t touch the alcohol. This made since. She has a lock and key for all of the heavy drugs. The beer and pot were free to take at anytime. We have to ask before we can get any pills. I want a concerta. Adena wouldn’t give it to me because she wanted me to do a line. I try to say no, but I decide to do what she says. I will obey. I will obey. I will obey. As Sammy says, let my purity of vision save me. She dumped a couple of lines in front of each of us and handed out the razor blades.

It’s three a clock in the afternoon. The coke wore off and the motion pills wore off a long time ago. This is the closest I have to to being sober in over twenty seven hours. It seems like a week, but… It was yesterday? Yesterday. Yesterday is when we got here. Here. Bobby’s house, with Adena, Zac, Tim, Jeremiah, John… Who’s John? Maybe the motion pills haven’t worn off yet. Maybe I’m John. John. nhoJ? Let me try… Am I going insane. My mind is buzzing. I can’t seem to hold a though for too long….

“Do you can go to same sack fact of tree stop motion go?” Someone is talking.
“Yeah.” Who’s coming? Adena jumps off her bunk onto my back screaming about Christians who are trying to enslave the world in a one world government. We are scared.
“Come with me.” She grabs my arm I am trying to follow, but my legs don’t want to work.
“Okay, lets go.” I run to the car but I fall. My arm is bleeding.
“NO! You don’t… we have to go. Don’t take the car, it’s chipped. Are YOU chipped?” She starts looking suspicious,. “Are you one of them? ARE YOU? FUCKING ASSHOLE.”
“No no no no no no no. I’m not. Trust me.”
“Okay.” We start running into the forest next to Bobby’s house. She brought supplies. A tent, twenty joints for each of us, a bottle of vodka, the bottle of the motion pills and some of the vicoden. She said she also had coke.

We are in the forest. Adena lost her flashlight, so we lit the tent on fire. We set it up, drenched it in alchohol (Theres enough of it back at the barn.) and lit it up. It’s burning down fast. We have somehow come to the sense of an image in time of something. I dunno. This all seems… Wrong? No… Unethical? Probably? Definitly not wrong, but empty. We are lost…
We find fire wood. Me and Adena are sober-ish. This is aboput how close I can get to explaining it: My eyes are all red, and my mind is spinning a million miles per hour, I am wide awake, and it’s three a.m. We hear voices. Maybe I’m not sober. I don’t know……. ANYWAY, were sitting on a log watching a pile of wood burning.

Me and Adena wake up nestled behind the barn. It’s cold. We go inside to Jeremiah and Zac are zsitting at the table. They laugh at us when we walk in. Apparantly we have switched cloths. I go and get some food. I am only high on pot now. I desparatrly need rest. Maybe for and hour or two, but that troublesome Adena won’t leave me alone. I distinctly remember having sex with her in the car last night. Weren’t we in the forest? I look out all around Bobby’s house and I don’t see any forest. It’s all fields. Did we fuck?
“Adena, did we fuck last night?” Adena looked at me and smiled.
“Maybe? Why?” WHY! It seems so important. Maybe it isn’t. It is. It isn’t. Doesn’t matter. Noone gets out of here alive.

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