There’s a lot of things circling right now. If you twist the 8 that’s infinity you get a zero. And that’s where we’re at. I was reading about Cat Marnell working on drugs. I get it. I used to do it. I was efficient until I wasn’t. I was thinner then, clubs and drinking and dancing and snorting, hopped up drug charged chemical energy running straight through you. I used to dance all night, get up for school, then head off to work. After work go straight to the club until 3 or 4, come home, do homework and be back up and running for class at 9:30.
The whole thing was getting to me. I remember not giving a fuck. It’s kind of a shitty place to be and kind of amazing at the same time. It’s interesting to read Cat’s perspective on the beauty, drugs, and life in general but I also wonder sometimes how the fuck she became a health and beauty editor when health and beauty aren’t exactly what she’s promoting. I mean I get the creams and how to wash PCP out of your hair. There’s nothing better than a cream that makes you look like you slept for 8 hours instead of just rolling out of a taxi on zero sleep and vodka. But hell Cat never said she was comfortable with being the “health” editor.
The fact of the matter is I like her. Does she say fucked up things? Sure. Does she have crazy body issues, well yes but I do too. Does she glamorize drug use? Not so much. But here’s the thing, in some peoples eyes, drugs are glamorous. I’ve seen junkies nodding off in abandoned house while everyone else curls up like little rattlesnakes on their opium beds. And to this day I still find something kind of magical about that moment. But I’m telling you, it takes a certain type. Not saying I’ll ever go back but they weren’t bad memories.
When I think back there is a bit of poetic charm to these memories, no matter how dirty the house, or grubby the people involved. I was a Nancy Spungen wannabe once. I know the deal. I’ve read and identified with Prozac Nation, Loose Girl, and all the other stories of drugs, drinking, and bad self-esteem. The thing that concerns me with Cat is the way VICE seems to be exploiting it or perhaps marketing it. Hey watch this girl self-destruct while we take bets on her death in the office. I tell my friend, “I feel like they’re waiting to write the obituary.” She says to me, “Honey they’ve already written it, they’re just waiting to add in the dates.”
The fact of the matter is Cat’s not okay, she says it herself. She’s brilliant, gorgeous, has a lot going for and she’s NOT okay. I’m not anti-drug at all. I know a lot of people who use either recreationally or spiritually and they are ok. Hell, William S. Burroughs was shooting heroin up until he died and he was one of the most prolific writers we had. As far as Cat’s concerned you can’t make anyone want to stop using, you can’t make them want to live, or not die tragically young and beautiful. The question then is do they have a story and how long do they have to tell it? I want her to write a book, I want her to tell her story. I remember how beautifully she told it in her article about the death of Whitney Houston but I also want her to be in a place where she can write it, and remember it, and live to see the royalties.
DEATH DRIVE: The bodily instinct to return to the state of quiescence that preceded our birth. The death drive, according to Freud’s later writings (Beyond the Pleasure Principle, “The Uncanny”), explains why humans are drawn to repeat painful or traumatic events (even though such repetition appears to contradict our instinct to seek pleasure). Through such a compulsion to repeat, the human subject attempts to “bind” the trauma, thus allowing the subject to return to a state of quiescence.
Cat talks a little about Freud’s theory of drives. It explains a lot. I remember receiving a letter from Holly once. It was the last letter I’d ever get from her. Some people just know.
“The black candle is secretly providing the white candle with wax and wick. Eternally I may sleep.”
I wish the best for Cat. I hope she gets whatever her heart desires, whatever that may be.
I have to bring Elleggua back into the bed. No dreams
None. The heat is totally messing with me.
They’ve been on the quiet end
Answered some emails