exerpt!

this is an exerpt from an essay/memoir i wrote about the beginning of 2004.

this is where i stop remembering things. someone pressed the pause button at 4:08 am. they meant to hit the stop button, but it was dark and they couldn't see the buttons on the remote control. i don't remember climbing down the ladder from my loft bed and walking to my father's desk, where i opened a drawer and held the bottle of wellbutrin in my hand and watched him sleep. i don't remember opening the medecine cabinet and pulling down two bottles -- one advil, one tylenol. i don't remember fumbling in the dark with the door to the shower and choosing one, two, three bottles of shampoo. i don't remember that they were herbal essences, khiel's, and more organic products brands. i don't remember climbing back up to my bed and taking 20 wellbutrin, 20 tylenol, and 4 advil. i don't remember drinking the shampoo, and i don't remember not minding the taste. i don't remember sitting up in bed writing for about an hour, throwing up periodically. i don't remember lying there, in pain, unaware of the nausea, and unable to get up to puke, and having to turn my head and throw up on the side of the wood loft upon which i lay. i don't remember clutching oatmeal bear. i don't remember listening to "the most beautiful widow in town" by sparklehorse. i don't remember passing out. and i don't remember the father finding me at 11 am, calling 911, screaming and crying.
i remember opening my eyes to see an orthodox jewish man named sammy, ringlets dangling, saving my life.

pow!