The Opening Pages
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.”