santa monica boulevard

last night i was walking along santa monica blvd., with a group of essentially 7 strangers from rehab, having a complete out of body experience. i hadn't been out of the klean facility for nearly 72 hours and the california air enveloped me kindly like an old, tattered blanket. a maitre'd nodded respectfully as i passed his restaurant, and i briefly glanced over at linen smothered tables, gloriously laden with wine tumblers, cocktail glasses and appetizer platters. but the clink of their glasses and harmonious titters floated above our determined stomping. we were focused in but one direction. away from all they were enjoying.

[if i am a pill addict, does that mean i can never have a drink again?]

and as we arrived at the centre, i attempted to simmer the lyrics percolating in my head.

i'd been transported back to a dinner party in toronto, where my friend, l, was trying to convince me that "all i wanna do" was not representative of sheryl crow's album, ","tuesday night music club" and that i should give it a shot. cut to 4 months later in los angeles, where i'm rockin' out with my brother at the wiltern with ms. crow...

"all i wanna do is have some fun, until the sun comes up over santa monica boulevard."

innocence lost. anarchy awakened.

the other day, my friend, j, told me that this is not a fight. i have to find acceptance. because i had stared out into space and mumbled, "i can't believe i'm an addict" and he said, "why?" and i simply didn't have an answer...

all i know is a switch turned on in me. for years i used to take fiorinol responsibly, but then a beast awakened. one that had lain insidiously dormant. for he waited until my weakest moment, the rejection of my kidney, to snipe me near dead. the switch flipped on, i went numb and gobble, gobble, gobble...this turkey gobbled as many pills as she could...

but i am not a turkey.

i am just hen. just henriette.