When I was 12 I tried alcohol for the first time. Beer tasted awful and I still curse the kid who gave it to me, but liquor... that shit really lit my fire.
Even the first drink of whiskey tasted like I had mastered fire and was drinking it down to become part of my soul. And once it reached the soul it warmed my everything. Getting the shit kicked out of you, then laughed at about it, leaves a sickness that never leaves stuck in the core of you. It dampens what should be happy moments and productive thoughts and leaves nothing but rot where there could have been joy. The warmth was a metaphor and real at the same time. A big ol batch of chemicals, just what I needed.
It tasted like burning asshole, but it only took 2 quick shots to shine a light on all my dark. I cannot remember what stupid things I did that night, well, not clearly, but I do remember a lot of spinning and smiling. Also, I may have thrown up into an older girl's blouse.
After that I went only with hard liquor, straight shots, it was quicker you see. Beer was never here *points to stomach* but liquor is for my ticker. The previous sentence is an example of how retarded I was as a child, but I do remember saying that anytime drinks were offered. Eventually, once I learned the ropes I'd simply say, when offered beer, "does it look like I'm wearing a dress? Gimme some hooch." I made many enemies over the years, but the strength I acquired from each of their defeats only increased the amount of strong drink I was able to take in per night. I was like the boozelander, there could be only "ughhhnnn..."
I did get drunk sometimes, but I maintain and am willing to present witnesses to verify, that I am an exquisite drunk. I do not fight, I do not start altercations, I simply keep to myself, or begin telling stories to anyone who would hear them. At these stages, my mind is completely open and any painful baggage is shot into space and nuked to hell and back by the unstoppable might of my intoxicated resolve. For the longest time, I was only happy when I could drink.
What's that? What about the addict scale that says over time the happiness from a drug decreases while the pain increases? Well hypothetical audience member, for as long as I've been drinking the scale has never once been in favor of pain over pleasure when drinking. I've gone on month long jam sessions with Jack Daniels on bass and while I've become sick from the poison, I've never been unhappy. If I became unhappy while drinking I would stop, and if it became painful I would quit. It is a very simple thing to know when you must stop something before it destroys you, the hard part is knowing when it is in the process of wrecking you, "I'm fine" the doomed would say before their decent into mental hellfire and physical oblivion. It really is playing with fire, but I am one of those rare people who were born with fireproof gloves.
Am I drunk right now? Why do you ask that? Oh... the structure of this article is all fucked up? Unrefined yes... but if you will notice, I make it clear in the upper right part of this page that I do not edit or even gloss over these entries. They are shit cars sold as is. No returns hypothetical asshole and you're lucky that you're not real otherwise I'd break my foot off in your geriatric ass.
All is fine, especially when liquor is abundant and the company is good. Of course, I'm sure many before me have said similar things before winding up bloated wreckage in the cosmic gutter, but if I ever get out of hand, that's one of the reasons why I've got you.
You know who you are. I'm glad you worry, but I'll be fine, and if not, tell me to quit and I will do so. But until I cannot handle it anymore, I will set a sun in my heart and share good stories and over-enthusiastic laughs with people worth sharing the experience with, and when I am sober I will pester you with terrible puns and sober hugs.
No comments:
Post a Comment