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The sermon for 2002-02-25 is: Tragedy, take 1 12:43 a.m. Hello diary, how are you? I misplaced my drugs and so I'm confiding in you instead of going absolutely insane looking for them. It's strange how much I miss my little bag of drugs only when I lose it or run out, since I'm otherwise so remarkably cavalier with them -- tossing the open bag nonchalantly onto my nightstand or in my refrigerator, say, or looking at a spill of precious life-giving illicit drugs and thinking, heh, tomorrow I'm going to be picking that out of the carpet. (Oh, how many times I've promised myself to stop ingesting shit tweezed out of the carpet. It's funny and sad and it's funnier because it's sad.) I need to come up with a system: John, when you do drugs, PUT THE DRUGS IN A PLACE YOU WILL REMEMBER AFTER YOU DO YOUR DRUGS. Of course this system will never work, because (a) I forget everything, and (2) what was I talking about? Oh, my latest tragedy, my misplaced dope. Here's another funny detail: so I look in what I think are the most likely places I've hidden my precious stash (which, Diary, is also based on a system: I think of where I would most likely hide my stuff, like say "next to my pipe," and then think, "where would I _then_ hide it, since _that place_ is way too fucking obvious?"-- answer: in one of my CDs, or book, or various P.O. Boxes in South America) and I find--- an EMPTY BAG. If you're not a fellow drug addict, you have no idea what kind of epistemological upset the discovery of an empty baggie is when expecting a non-empty one. Your thoughts zoom pan-dimensionally on a variety of philosophical timespace vectors: DID SOMEONE SQUAWK MY SHIT? IS THIS _ANOTHER_ BAG? and, CAN I SCRAPE ANYTHING OUT OF THIS? alongside the usual matrix of thoughts stupid and addled, viz. why am I persisting in this idiocy? What the fuck am I doing to myself? and, When is that motherfucker going to come through with the shit he promised me goddamn TONIGHT? In other words, a typical Sunday night, oh faithful Diary. Thanks for listening. Hopefully we'll converse again tomorrow. I lead such a stupid life.
 
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