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Wednesday, November 09, 2005

God FUCKING DAMN. FUCK. GODDAMN. FUCK.

I hadn't checked my voicemail messages in a couple of days, because things have been so busy, and usually the phone calls aren't important.

But I checked them this morning, and found this from over the weekend:
Hey girl, it's Lulu... I just thought I'd call you and talk to you because we're having some problems at home with Jason, who, sadly, seems to have lost his mind... So he has been committed - on Friday - and, yep, it's all gone to hell in a really fast car... Anyway, give me a call if you have a chance. And if you feel like talking about it, that would be great, because I know I do. I love you.
And then, from Sunday, a frighteningly sedated-sounding Jason:
Hey Mel. It's Jase. Just ringing up to let you know I've had the worst couple of days ever. Anyway, just thought you might like to know. Hopefully I'll hear from you soon. OK, bye, hon.

I'm trying to call Lucy, but it's half past one in the morning over there. I left a rambling voicemail message.

FUCK.

Well, I guess that explains why I was so completely fucked up last week. Fucking borg.

The ridiculous irony here is that Jason had a friend committed just a few months ago. I don't know if Jason's current condition has anything to do with the HIV. I don't know anything. I wish I had thought to check my voicemail messages sooner, though I'm not entirely sure what I would have accomplished had I known this four days ago. Maybe I would have cried over this instead of the laundry.
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