This is from yesterday at 3:00 p.m.:

'Anyway, I've been thinking about sophomore year lately. Driving through Scott's Valley on the way to and from Santa Cruz brought back a lot of memories of rehab two years ago. It was probably nearly exactly two years ago that I left for rehab, and the weather is just as it was then. It's sunny and beautiful, and I was so fucking miserable then. I was kicking dope for the first time, and although I wasn't hooked as bad as the last time I kicked, it still sucked horribly. I remember playing tennis on the shitty courts that the rehab had. I remember meeting Mike, one of the two other heroin addicts there. He was crazy, from Palo Alto. He sold dope. He was court ordered to be there, and he was a maniac. I heard he got arrested about three days after leaving for stealing a car or some shit. I don't know, my memory of that time is extremely vague. I remember meeting Nicole, who was the other dopehead there. She was awesome, and knew the Mission St. dope scene like I did. I was friends with her after I got out. My brother actually dated her for a while, which bugged the hell out of me. My brother has done that a few times; dated girls that I'm friends with before he knew them. I remember Matt, who was 14, little as all hell. He looked prepubescent, not more than 5 ft tall. But he was horny as all hell and crazy. He'd come up to you and slap his dick and balls against his legs. He was a little wierd in the sex department. I haven't thought about that time in forever. It's wierd remembering how fucking insane I was at the time. I was one angry, unhappy kid. And I was just a kid then too. I've grown up so much in the last two years. Rehab started that process. Chris started that process too. I should thank rehab so much for starting me saving my life. I drink still, but I don't do any drugs, especially heroin. I'm clean, at least in my mind. I don't go to meetings any more, but they never really helped me anyway. All the people I knew at meetings are either gone from my life or went out and stayed out. It sucks. Whatever. I'm doing so well, and I feel bad for those kids that are still strung out. It's wierd thinking about all this stuff now. I just need to remember where I came from, and think about where I want to go.'

So anyway, this is today, but the same things are happening. I was thinking today about Annie. She was in the adult program, so we weren't supposed to talk to each other, but we did anyway. I ran into her on Mission St. buying dope about a year ago. I was doing the same thing. We didn't quite remember where we knew each other from at first, but it hit both of us all at once. She was so sweet, but when I saw her, she was strung out (so was I) and she had a huge abscess (sp?) on her arm. She looked like she was going to die. She was gorgeous as always, but in a dopesick kind of way. Dope can't take away all that naivete in a person, all that cuteness, all that childishness, all that beauty. It sure tries, but it takes a long time to do it. She wasn't there yet, and I miss her. I have no idea where she is now. I hope she's alive. I hope she's clean, or at least happy and not homeless. It's sad to see someone go through that. She's strong, but I doubt she's strong enough to keep it up for long. Who is? I sure wasn't. It's like that Jawbreaker song Housesitter: 'I wish I had the strength to do your drugs; it must take strength.' That song's about the 16th and Mission dope scene. And for someone that I don't think was a heroin addict, Blake sure knew what was up. I don't know quite why I'm thinking about all this now. I don't want to use, and I don't want to hate everything. I'm pretty happy right now (except for boys) and these memories are just coming back with such a vengeance. It's odd, but probably good for me. I don't know.

In other news, I learned today that a cute freshman boy whom I like is questioning his sexuality. I'm excited about that. He's adorable. It's the same guy who was on the plane with me back from New York, when I was getting wasted and wanted to hop on him. I'm tempted to ask him on a date, though I may wait until closer to the end of the year in case he says no. It would be odd to be at school with him if he rejects me. Although, I guess I've been through that before (a bunch of times). The possibilities amaze me, and excite me. It is a little strange that he's a freshman. I may feel like I'm corrupting him, but I think I'm going to go for it anyway. I need someone new. I need someone I haven't gone after for years, and someone that's not hell of older than me. Those are the two extremes I've been going to with some success for a few months now. Anyway, this entry is pretty short if I ignore what I copied from yesterday, but I need to examine negatives I just got back and then go see Jets again tonight. I'm wishing myself luck with M*** (I realized he probably doesn't want people to know what I just wrote about) though! I'll come to a decision tomorrow.

This is another one that reminds me of those fucked up years:

'The California sun has sunk. Behind the Anaheim Hills, here comes the night. I was high on junk. And the warm winds of Santa Ana feel all right. I get destructive outside obedience. I am no longer respected in this new transition. I put into effect, my long time standard: disastrous living, disastrous living!' ----'Brad Logan' by Rancid