as I walked home drunk, I was already conjuring up the exact sentences I wanted to type on my glowing keyboard. my brain began to predict what I wanted to say 20 minutes before I reached the ability to present my thoughts to the internet. I narrated my present for the future, but now I forget what was so great about it at the time.

I live a new life where drinking is the norm nearly every night. This happens because I befriended cute bartenders, japanese acquaintances, go clubbing, stay out all night, have access to cheap convenience store alcohol and live with a writer/ex-tokyo socialite who’s somewhat source of inspiration and socialization is whiskey. it’s also our part-time side job to get paid to drink. I have never drank so much in my life. I’m writing this drunk, although I feel of sound and mind (because I like to think I built up a tolerance) and have no idea when I have actually drank too much anymore until someone tells me the following day that I was really loud the previous night (excited, probably) and I discover mysterious bruises on body parts I don’t recall coming into contact with hard objects.

photo 1

my only indication of drinking too much is when I make bad food decisions. I have been trying to restart my impossible diet over and over for weeks now, but every night i end up drinking and thinking “tonight is ok, tonight I can make an exception because of _______” which always seems like a legit reason at the time (usually a celebration of some sort).

and then, my body reminds me why it’s boss. 24 hours or more of feeling the worst. and I know this–I KNOW THIS–while I make the decision, yet I consciously ignore myself. why does it keep happening!? carbs, grains, candy, sugar, alcohol… I have no self control. I think “one more day” as if it won’t make a difference. I love food so much, yet suck it up like a vacuum and don’t take the time to savor it. I am a food monster.

photo 3

people look at me and say “really? you can’t have one bite? you can’t put a little soy sauce on that?” as if my intestines “AREN’T LOOKING” like I can SNEAK food past the part of my body that PROCESSES FOOD. like, are you going to duck under the counter at immigration services at the airport? you gotta check the fuck in. my cells aren’t looking the other way, they see it all. it’s a one-way road from mouth to butt. it’s what they do. that’s all they do. see the food I eat, and see if my body can take it. it can’t. I can’t.

photo 2

anyways, I drank tonight when I didn’t mean to. I told myself I wouldn’t make bad eating choices and then I did. and then I get to the point where I’m like “well I already ate this so I’m gonna just eat this” and enjoy my life, RIGHT? but all day (from a previous bad food decision the day before) I felt sooo awful and so shitty and I was like “NEVER AGAIN” and then I did it again.

I walk around the neighborhood in hopes it will counter-act carbs and wear off the sake. I look people in the eyes and hope they will look at me back and I want to talk to them. I can’t talk to them but I want to kiss them. I am in terminator kiss mode. I never get to kiss and I never talk to people, but a sake-soaked stomach changes the mind somehow. I end up at home, texting people, wishing I could kiss them. I now know a lot of people who are up late, but none of them I should actually be kissing.

today my hair was dyed pink from a hair modeling gig with my favorite friends at toni and guy. I killed time in harajuku and had my photo taken 3 times for 3 different street snap blogs. my outfit was plain, but it was windy and the dress was blowing as big as a celebrity’s aura, and I attracted attention like a monotone peacock (with pink hair). my outfit was so plain, but I felt so good. a good haircut is important, it will make or break your entire ego. at least in my case. hair is important. I would be honestly shocked to death if future me married a bald man.

I need to take another walk around the block. I may or may not stop in a conbini along the way. I want to say “chu kure kure” to a random stranger. (“*kiss nosie* gimme gimme”) PS hi mom, don’t worry I am ok. I will be ok.

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September 27, 2013 days