Friday, December 17, 2010

wasterd in yucaipa

i don't know what happened. well, i know what happened - i got fucking wasted. what i don't know id how i got here, yucaipa according to the sign outside. i have a flight itinerary with the words "salton sea" scribbled on it. i'm in a cheap motel. there's a broken chair. i'm sweating my balls off. there's blood spattered in the sink. also, i think somebody shit in the bathtub and tried to wash it down the drain. the bed looks untouched. i don't remember waking up. it's just like all of the sudden i was standing in this shitty bathroom. i just found my pants - they're sticking out from under the bed. about to go through them...okay there's a receipt from carl's jr. looks like i had a guac something burger, which would make sense. a necklace that i've never seen before. no empty baggies. maybe i didn't go all the way. someone's knocking on the door. i'm not fucking answering it. my elbow really fucking hurts. can't find my wallet. more blood, on my shirt. nobody else here anywhere. except outside the door. my head is throbbing. at least i know i'm alive. i've never even heard of yucaipa. smells like someone pissed in here. fuck i thought that was sweat. there's a burn or something on my penis. like a rug burn. knocking on the door. maybe medicine.


  1. Oh Christ dude, are you still on methadone?

  2. O that's crazy crazy shit. One thing as an addict, you gotta keep money drugs and you all together!

    So who was at that door? Come on we wanna know!!

  3. Yeah are you on methadone? I am. Fucking 'orrible stuff. It's green like martian vomit here. Crap-arse shit that it is. Here being London BTW.