The
Opening Pages
of
Eat,
Pray, Fuck…
The
Memoirs of Ms.
Dominique
“This is my story. This will always be my story….
“So tonight I reach for my journal again. It’s next
to the empty bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label. Oh, Johnny, Johnny where are
you? I need you. Or Captain Morgan…. Or somebody…. This is the first time I’ve
done this since I came to Italy, yesterday. What I write (in my aforesaid
journal) is that I am weak and full of fear. Or full of something, which of
course I can’t explain.
“Now old Dr. Doom and Mr. Despair have driven up in
my driveway, and I’m scared they will never, ever leave. But I go out to the
car anyway. They hand me the bag of pills; but I say that I don’t want to take
the pills anymore, but I’m frightened I will have to. I am terrified that I
will never really pull my life together without pills. More and more pills. I
am afraid I will end up like Elvis. Squatting on a toilet, dead as a hammer. A
dead hammer. Not even the musical career of M.C. Hammer could be this dead.”
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