Free Postcards From the Edge by Carrie Fisher

peanut butter cookies and a biography of Judy Garland. She told me she thought my problem was that I was too impatient, my fuse was too short, that I was only interested in instant gratification. I said, “Instant gratification takes too long.”
    The glib martyr.
    … What a stupid film. Doctor’s Orders. What could I have been thinking? There’s a lesson here-just ‘cause a movie is playing near your house doesn’t mean it’s not a piece of shit. Jesus, I could act better than that. I could certainly write a better script. I should write a script. I’m gonna start writing my script.
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    POSTCARDS from the EDGE
    I wish I could do speed, though. I always wrote better on speed, the ideas would just come. I wrote my first pilot in two days on Dexedrine. I bet I could take that again. I don’t see how they could say I’m a drug addict if it’s for work …
    So, my script. My script about my experiences in the rehab and my insights into that whole world. Maybe it could be the story of somebody who is accidentally put into a clinic, like Cuckoo’s Nest. The guy is just having an allergic reaction to some drugs, but they put him in a clinic with all these addicts and one’s a celebrity, and they fall in love and get married. Maybe I could take a couple of Didrex and write it. I think that would be okay, if I only take speed to write. I think that’s fair, because I’ve always had a lot of trouble writing without a drug. I don’t even think speed is technically a drug. You can get it from doctors, and if doctors prescribe it, it’s a medication. And I need a medication to write.
    God, it’s so good to be back in regular life and just be driving onto my street in Laurel Canyon. It’s a nice night, I had a mature evening. I went to the movies in my car. I’m in my life. Everything is going my way. It’s all uphill from here.
    Oh, fuck. My fucking parents! I can’t even have a normal night at the movies by myself. Almost thirty years old. I should be able to come out of a clinic and go back into my life unattended. I think I’m quite capable of doing that. I shouldn’t have to come home from a movie and find my parents’ car in my driveway. I can never grow up if they keep treating me like a baby. Well, if they think I’m a baby, I’ll act like a baby. They can have it their way. If they think I’m such a junkie, I’ll be a fucking junkie. I’ll go out and get loaded. Fine. If they want to worry, I’ll give them something to good and well worry about. Fuck ‘em. I’m going to Brentwood. I’ll fucking go back to Brentwood …
    I would never have done this if they hadn’t come over. I would never have done this if they hadn’t driven their Cadillac up to my house, where I’m trying to relax and enjoy the rest of my youth, the twenty more minutes I have left. I go to the movies, I’m handling it
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C A R R I EF I S H E R
    beautifully until … Well, fuck them. I’m in Brentwood and it’s their fault. They pushed me to this. If they would just let me grow up, maybe I would. Forget it, I’m gonna do what I want to do now, or what they think I want to do. I’ll just do what they think I want to do now. I hope that guy’s here. He’s always here. They think I’m such a loser junkie, I’ll be a
    “Hi, man. No, I’m fine. No, I know you had to call my parents. Yeah, yeah, it’s cool. I was in a hospital, they detoxed me. I’m fine. I left today, I’m a little upset. They just … You know parents, they don’t get off your back. They can’t just blend into another relationship where they leave you alone. I can’t even go back to my house now. They’re there, probably going through my stuff.
    “Do you have parents? They bug you? Yeah. You’re lucky you don’t have my parents. If you had my parents, they’d be here now. So, what kind of blow are we talking about? You know, I haven’t done any in a while, I’ve been clean and … Fuck it, you know? Everybody thinks I’m a junkie. Hey,