Day 51: My mind is like a plastic bag

- On Saturday night, after an excellent afternoon with friends + kids on the other side of London, I spent two or three hours sitting in my room in a red party dress and red lipstick having an internal debate about whether to go to a big 30th birthday party (theme: "the decadent and the damned") in a club in Shoreditch. At 1am it started raining and made my decision for me, but I think I had got to the point of realising that turning up late, dramatically and alone was too much like my 'old behaviour' (what I'm trying to recognize and eliminate) - just minus the booze. I was exhausted anyway and didn't think the birthday girls would miss me. My re-entry to society should be more structured and sane.

- One of the peers turned up wearing a Jack Daniels Tshirt and was, predictably, told not to wear it again - v inappropriate. He hadn't realised. I told him (a recovering junkie) that I'd wear my heroin Tshirt tomorrow.

- A dream about a glass of red wine. It was so delicious and I thought I could get away with drinking it without anyone knowing. I woke guilty and relieved. My drinking is truly fucked.

- Another person was discharged today. Not for a relapse (as far as I know), but for not 'engaging' in the programme (eg. not talking in groups, turning up late etc). He had already been given a written warning and after staying silent in group therapy this morning, was shown the door. So, out of my original ten: two completed, one discharged, one left, five relapsed and ME (I am now the 'oldest' member of the group and still the only woman). Wish me luck.



INFINITE JEST: Pages 536-580
- Randy Lenz's hobby of 'demapping' rats and cats (ie killing, 'resolving')
- Endnotes with endnotes
- And on page 566, a sex scene (Orin Incandenza & one of his 'subjects'). At last! DFW, I didn't think you had it in you.