NOTE TO TO SELF - NEVER EAT POT COOKIE AGAIN AS LONG AS YOU LIVE! DO YOU COPY?
Wow. Boy was this last week ever weird. It seemed to pass by like something that fell off the roof. I had to go back to LA last friday for a job with Keith that we'd planned weeks ago. I'd booked my return friday afternoon, thinking that i'd have the evening to relax and I could show up for keith's show refreshed and prepared. But it didn't fucking happen that way. I couldn't get anyone to pick me up at the airport in long beach, so i got in one of those vans headed up to LA.
The problem was the dude didn't inform us that his first stop was in pasadena, and so we ended up stuck in afternoon rush hour traffic for two hours. A guy riding behind me started laying into the driver, and i just wanted to shrink, or dissolve or something. he was absolutely right that the driver should not have racked us in a van to pasadena, when we were all going to LA. But who wants to hear someone berated like that? Fucking sucked. I saw my refreshing little evening dissolve before my eyes.

But that's not the weird part. No. No, that was monday. The weird part happened on monday when I ate a pot cookie a friend passed me. NOTE TO TO SELF - NEVER EAT POT COOKIE AGAIN AS LONG AS YOU LIVE! DO YOU COPY?

My idea had been to catch a light buzz and then just tend to chores around the house. There were plenty to do what with my imminent departure for new york. And all of them were sufficiently brainless that the cannabis would just glide me through all mellow and ras. The problem was that the buzz i caught was not light. I was fucking wasted - and delusional. My heart beat at some anaerobic level for about 10 hours. I was unable to catch my breath. i went into the kitchen and ran straight into my housemate. She seemed startled. She could look right through me.
"Dude, I ate a pot cookie and I am really fucked up.' I said.
"Oh wow, really?" She asked with what seemed like a complete absence of concern. She made a THITCH sound with her tongue against the back of her teeth.
"Well I hope you come down soon." She singsonged, as one reads the last line of a bedtime story to a sleeping infant
"Yeah yeah - me too." I said, smiling weakly as I backed away from her towards my room. I closed the door and exhaled fully. Must not leave room again, I thought to myself.

I sat down at my desk and stared at the elder tree in the backyard. I tried to think of happy reassuring things and I concentrated on Volkofsky's play. The play is the greatest thing in the world. In my world. Yeah that's right, the world. The play is my beautiful world. My magic box.

The breath suddenly tightened in my lungs when I grasped the essence of DOC, the demented character I'm to play. I had an innocent little fairy of an epiphany turn into a horrendous, howling demon. I gasped in fear and regret for having accepted the part. I couldn't believe that I had agreed to do it; If the devil handed me a signed original contract for my soul, i could not have had greater regret or terror: For having left my happy little pink house in california to be subject to the indignities of that part.

Volkofsky is trying to destroy me. Oh my God. How could I not have seen it? just the concept of Doc, his ugliness and sadism, channeled through me... A dark cold thought came over me: It's a Jewsih sacrifice ritual. And I'm the guy who's gonna get it.
This part - this Doc is a human meat grinder. I do a three page monologue not only wearing red boxing gloves, high heels and a glass of water strapped to my head - I actually have no pants on. My cock, my balls and my ass are literally hanging out! They may as well be hanging out on the corner, smoking cigarettes and whistling at girls. Volkofsky is going to utterly destroy me! Of course! It's a Jewsih sacrifice ritual. He needed a gentile to destroy, and I was the perfect mark. Oh god help me! I said aloud.

My eyes were as big as faberge eggs - falling out of their sockets - dangling from intercom wires like an improvised explosive art device. Terrifying and fucked up.

I lurched across the room and fell down on my bed. Breathing erratically and trying to get a hold of myself I stared up at the acoustic cottage cheese ceiling, and in the faint outlines of the boards beneath it, I saw a great white cross - glowing before me.

"Holy fuck-ing shit" I whispered: over and over. "Holy fuck-ing shit"

Hours later, after a three hour nap and still stoned out of my mind I went over to Trader Joes on the bicycle. There was no way I was driving a car in that state. I was terribly thirsty, and stood in the line with four bottles of Orangina. Everyone seemed perfectly aware that I was sub-human waste, but I managed to get through the check-out line. As I was walking out the store, the phone rang in my pocket

caller ID:

VOLKOFSKY

He must know that I'm onto him.
I let the call go to voicemail. I seriously thought about going to see a priest. I thought about calling my dad. I finally fell asleep in the hammock in the backyard.
The next day, still bleary as hell, I went online and booked a ticket back to new york. I called Volkofsky to tell him that I would make it for the saturday rehearsal.
"Good." He said. "I was wondering for awhile yesterday if you wouldn't back out."
"Nah, I wouldn't do that." I answered. "I did actually freak out for awhile yesterday, but I feel okay now."
"What were you freaking out about?" He asked.
"Ahhh, I'll uh - I'll tell you about it another time." I finally said.

You know. The thing is, he is going to destroy me, or at least part of me. But I'm kind of into it. And anyway he did the part last year, and he seems like a better man for it.