Pounding in my brain, don't stop, in the bullet train from Tokyo... to Los Angeles
It is safe to say that I drank myself cross-eyed today (well, the results are felt today, whereas the drinking occurred last night), considering that I have this frontal lobe ache that rivals eye strain from 2nd grade. But it's all good - there was a meeting of the two founding members of the
ICR last night that resulted in my own vomitus interruptus, as well as drunken conversations that probably made absolutely no sense whatsoever. I actually pieced the night together through the text messages I misspelled and accidentally sent, which is remarkably idiotic, and yet ingenious of me to document each mind-stupefying moment.
Man, I feel like ass. Perhaps this diary has turned into the "I feel like ass because I drink so much and here are the tales of said-drinking"? Whatever it has become, I feel as not guilty as Michael Jackson. Take that statement as however you wish.
2005-07-18 | 2:20 p.m.
