Letter from a Drunk
There are so many good reasons why I drink, but really they all add up towards, like the lines in that Atari insignia, you know? They all swooped from this broad plain up into a single point? Anyway, it's like that, all the reasons why I drink add up to this one thing. This one thing, it's so big I'm going to capitalize it: Unhappiness.
But here's all the little reasons, and they my friend are numerous. Legion. Phalanx. That's another thing. When you've been drinking it unlocks all this vocabulary that you threw out a long time ago, like when you graduated high school. It's like...words that are still lying in the corner of the front porch of your mind, behind that rusted train wheel you found in the woods and the old refridgerator door that you swear would make an awesome sled and yet you've let three winters go by without testing that claim. You're such a jerk.
Yeah, "phalanx". Total comic book word, don't get me wrong. Total "I'm going to use this motherfucking English degree for something goddammit" word. And don't tell me to stop swearing! Most beautiful, colorful metaphors in the world, those curses. There's a reason they exist. Honestly! I mean, honestly! I mean...FUCK. HONESTY. That's why they exist. They're honest. And sometimes, like when we're drunk, we let all that honesty out and it's beautiful at the time.
I am making a conscious effort to get my its and it's right, along with my theirs, there's, and they're's. I don't think that last one is supposed to be plural, but whatever.
What was I saying? Oh. OH. It's like this. You get to use these words and not feel embarassed about them, so then you do other things that make you feel good that you would usually be embarrased about but...in the floaty, buzzy world of the drink...feel like a hilarious thing that people should do more often, cuz it's hilarious!
Let me show you what I mean. I was out with friends tongiht and I had a few and after a few I started really wanting to make out with my friend's girlfriend and THIS IS WRONG but it was nice to entertain the thought more freely, I guess. And also she was totally stretching her leg out towards me all night, like she wanted it. Kind of annoying. STOP TESTING ME WOMAN.
A word of advice: Don't choose a tipsy, wobbly stool before sitting down to drink. It gets confusing.
So, perhaps I'm a few drinks in and everything really is getting funnier because even though you try to keep a lid on yourself, on your animus...that's another spelling bee word right there...maybe that's why metal bands use those kinds of words all the time and pretend they're smart? Because they're stupid drunks with bad hair?
I AM OFF THE POINT. I'll just get straight to blowing your mind with the big realization. Getting drunk detaches you from time. I have deduced this from the growing mountain of evidence, so listen up. It begins with the tipsy, floating feeling, right? You're detached and now you're drifting upwards, because the more you're drinking, the more you're peeing, and the less you're weighing, and if Janice doesn't stop sticking her leg over to my end of the table I am seriously going to do something that Darren is gonna hate me forever for. Fucking Darren. It's not my fault he has the hottest girl in town as his mate.
So you're floating, right? And what comes next is the prompting of your actions dictated on their immediate consequences, rather than their long-term consequences. Tomorrow has faded, yesterday has become a sadness that has been shed, whose only use is as fuel for jokes. Time. A devilish invention that defies thermodynamic laws (sort of) and actually goes faster as it depletes. It becomes unshackled from you and leaves you free to expose the active inner part of yourself to everyone. Your shell cracks open and oozes forth a spring blossom, still wet from the process of birth, but fresh and untainted. To use a more Bukowski-like metaphor: Alcohol unclenches your creative bowels in a marvelous fashion.
That said, I'm really sorry about what I did to your couch. I can't believe I thought that was a good idea.
But here's all the little reasons, and they my friend are numerous. Legion. Phalanx. That's another thing. When you've been drinking it unlocks all this vocabulary that you threw out a long time ago, like when you graduated high school. It's like...words that are still lying in the corner of the front porch of your mind, behind that rusted train wheel you found in the woods and the old refridgerator door that you swear would make an awesome sled and yet you've let three winters go by without testing that claim. You're such a jerk.
Yeah, "phalanx". Total comic book word, don't get me wrong. Total "I'm going to use this motherfucking English degree for something goddammit" word. And don't tell me to stop swearing! Most beautiful, colorful metaphors in the world, those curses. There's a reason they exist. Honestly! I mean, honestly! I mean...FUCK. HONESTY. That's why they exist. They're honest. And sometimes, like when we're drunk, we let all that honesty out and it's beautiful at the time.
I am making a conscious effort to get my its and it's right, along with my theirs, there's, and they're's. I don't think that last one is supposed to be plural, but whatever.
What was I saying? Oh. OH. It's like this. You get to use these words and not feel embarassed about them, so then you do other things that make you feel good that you would usually be embarrased about but...in the floaty, buzzy world of the drink...feel like a hilarious thing that people should do more often, cuz it's hilarious!
Let me show you what I mean. I was out with friends tongiht and I had a few and after a few I started really wanting to make out with my friend's girlfriend and THIS IS WRONG but it was nice to entertain the thought more freely, I guess. And also she was totally stretching her leg out towards me all night, like she wanted it. Kind of annoying. STOP TESTING ME WOMAN.
A word of advice: Don't choose a tipsy, wobbly stool before sitting down to drink. It gets confusing.
So, perhaps I'm a few drinks in and everything really is getting funnier because even though you try to keep a lid on yourself, on your animus...that's another spelling bee word right there...maybe that's why metal bands use those kinds of words all the time and pretend they're smart? Because they're stupid drunks with bad hair?
I AM OFF THE POINT. I'll just get straight to blowing your mind with the big realization. Getting drunk detaches you from time. I have deduced this from the growing mountain of evidence, so listen up. It begins with the tipsy, floating feeling, right? You're detached and now you're drifting upwards, because the more you're drinking, the more you're peeing, and the less you're weighing, and if Janice doesn't stop sticking her leg over to my end of the table I am seriously going to do something that Darren is gonna hate me forever for. Fucking Darren. It's not my fault he has the hottest girl in town as his mate.
So you're floating, right? And what comes next is the prompting of your actions dictated on their immediate consequences, rather than their long-term consequences. Tomorrow has faded, yesterday has become a sadness that has been shed, whose only use is as fuel for jokes. Time. A devilish invention that defies thermodynamic laws (sort of) and actually goes faster as it depletes. It becomes unshackled from you and leaves you free to expose the active inner part of yourself to everyone. Your shell cracks open and oozes forth a spring blossom, still wet from the process of birth, but fresh and untainted. To use a more Bukowski-like metaphor: Alcohol unclenches your creative bowels in a marvelous fashion.
That said, I'm really sorry about what I did to your couch. I can't believe I thought that was a good idea.
posted by greenland at 1:30 AM
<< Home