Stability
Sometimes I'm like, "What the fuck, Craig."
Last night I went to the bar. I had been drinking during the evening before going to the bar. The gallery at school had been open for an art gallery tour that galleries have on Thursdays. You know, the third Thursday kind of thing that is trendy right now among towns that are trying to be somebody. Anyhow, I was working until eight last night. This week had been disgusting, full of tests and projects and papers being due, and Math and figuring out how things work. Much of the work still needed to be completed when I got home last night from work. As soon as I got home I cracked a beer. I called some friends and none answered. Checked my messages. So I called again and left a reply message; some of the voice messages we leave each other are very funny. Anyhow, I sat on the hard kitchen floor and worked on some drawings and drank the beer. The beer escaped quickly. I thought, why am I drinking beer? I poured a tequilla drink. Tequilla is by far one of the top three spirits in the world. Anyhow, then the phone rang and before long I was drinking with a friend who was talking to me from five hours away. We had some good laughs. By the time the conversation was over I had sucked down three drinks. Good, stiff, honest Mexican drinks; and everybody knows there's no such thing as an honest Mexican. Chisto. And then by the time I had finished the project I was probably drunk. And not only, but also, when you finish something, at I tend to relax a bit and often relinquish myself of any other pressing duties. And that's exactly what happened last night.
I went to the bar. Actually, my intent was to go to McDonald's for some reason. I think because I've been hanging on to a coupon for a while, and the thought eating that shit entices me at times; and so last night I thought, Well, I'm finished with this project. Now is a good time for McDonald's. (This is one of those what the fuck, Self, moments I'm talking about in the first paragraph. I mean, who rewards himself with McDonald's? McDonald's is for people who don't eat real food or who never really think of the impacts of fast food on their gastro-intestinal system and kidneys and liver and heart and bones and overall general physiological stability. But then again, name one drinker who actually proves that he gives a shit about his liver or "physiological stability." Drinking is about the worst thing you can do for your body. Ever. I mean, maybe meth is worse or Iodine-13. But anyhow.) At the bar sat a couple whom I have come to admire. The fellow is, well, he not not gorgeous but he has sleek muscular arms, and I could see, well, you know, with him in that way because of the way his arms look, especially when your sitting across the table and the fellow is wearing a tank top, like last night. We sat and talked and drank beer, and the girl who, by the way, produces my favorite radio program here in the valley, was sitting next to me sipping a cocktail that looked green in the dark light. The walls of the bar are brick and cast a dim glow of amber hues across the room. The wood and the lottery machines and the glasses of beer mingle together like a group at a party in a small room in the middle of nowhere. Then my neighbors came in the bar, and it really was a party. We all sat at the table. We talked like thinkers. We laughed madly. We drank like drunks. Across the room at another set of tables was a boy; he and I met a few weeks ago; he uniquely handsome. I called his name as if we were good friends. We didn't really talk much. I showed an interest in him in hopes of inviting him over for a conversation. He visited the table only once to say good-by to others whom he knew better. This town is a very small town, and folks whom you may assume do not know each other, in contrast know each other quite well, because, again, the town is very small. I guess my point of view is that the thought never crosses my mind that other people know the same people I know, but here the misunderstanding that I've been living with is crucial. Crucial, I guess, if I'm looking for any privacy or confidence among comrades in the area, at least in the circle of acquaintances with whom I sometimes choose to associate myself. And how far can you go when you're showing an interest in someone before you've diminished your character? So the uniquely good-looking fellow went home, and the table of folks and I continued drinking.
We went outside for a cigarette. I carried a glass of beer. We stood outside for a long time. The barman came outside. I began to ask the barman a question. He cut me off: "What are you doing with that glass out here?"
"I didn't know."
"What do you mean you didn't know? There's a sign right there. It's brand new."
"A sign? No one reads signs," I said. "You could put up a sign that the bartender's mother licks cunts, and no one would read it."
"Watch youself," he said. "Your beer is on the table. Don't bring your drinks outside."
The neighbors and I chat about life out by the telephone pole. I told them how I don't like the town we live in and that I plan to move. Then they talked some. Then we went inside and talked more. We talked about collecting our compost, because another fellow composts at his place and I compost at our place, and that a whole group of us ought to collect our compost. "And do what with it?" We talked about the benefits of collecting compost even if a household does not produce a garden. We also talked about the faults of collecting so much stuff in life, and if I leave then the compost idea would fail. I said that w could do it just to do it until I leave just in case something bad happens.
"I alwys think worst case scenario," I said. "You should always look at what could happen to obviate loss and damage while simultaneously producing the an avenue for the most propicious benefit." We don't do that in our planning, humans I mean, humans in the planning of towns and sociological and economic infrastructure and logistics. That's why we'e in the mess we're in today (if we are, indeed, in a "mess."). Because for so long we maintained our accounts of natural resources and finances as if we would never run out. But then ields started going dry and desertification is taking place in certain regions of the United States. Like in the midwest and the southeast arguably. The Ogallala Aquifer under the Great Plains is a good example of running out of a resource because humans have failed to institute conservative utilization in the development of towns, cities and farms. The same idea exists in the devourment of top soil for the development of housing in places like Bozeman, Montana and the Skagit Valley in northwestern Washington and Roseburg, Oregon. And you could also look at the plight of various wetlands across the United States. Currently, the Environmental Protection Agency and the State of Florida, and the Department of Agriculture and the Department of the Interior, and the Coast Guard and the US Army Corps of Engineers are grappling with the state of the Everglades and what to do with a dry lake bed that used to be the largest natural wetlands on the planet. And then some states like Georgia and South Carolina with approximately 500 square miles of coastal wetlands are continuing to allow development on wetlands without any mitigation. And wetlands are vitally important to the global eco-system; wetlands, estuaries in particular, serve as the incubators of life forms. Whereas deserts tend to serve as graveyards, if you will; yet more practically labeled, deserts serve as filters. That's why just because a desert exists does not mean that no ecological purpose is served. Water filters best and most assuredly, as well as efficiently, through sand. That's why your aquifers are usuallly underneath a thick bed of sandstone. In any case, back to the point of this parapgraph, to live without planning looking at least 20 years ahead, is foolish. Because our common mistakes are what inhibit us, we humans, from greatness, from moving beyond our humanity, or a least from stepping toward that next level of development: evolution if you will, and moreover, an evolution that seves us rather than us serving the evolution of ourselves. We can get run over in the evolution of ourselves, or we can run over the evolution, like jumping into the current rather than getting knocked down by the current. Anyhow, long paragraph, but lastnight we all talked about collecting ou compost for the reason of just because.
Then we piled into the automobile and drove home.
Then one of the neighbors and I drank wine and smoked cigarttes at my house. She said something that I don't remember now that sounded quite important, and people always do that with me. People tell me things. And then I started to talk a little. I tried my best to get information on a fellow, one of my neighbor's friends, to find out if he may be, you know, well, gay, to see if I could find another handsome homosexual to meet here in this empty town of hot men. But alas, no luck. She kept own about something else, and I may have proceded too furtively. Does that make sense? That I ain't open about everything to everyone, and so I get answers based on tact and thusly achiveve very little over what feels like a long period of time? Anyhow, after the wine, she left, and I went to, yes, McDonald's.
I bought a double quarter pounder with cheese and a big mac and a small order of fries, and then I parked and ate the food. Then I went back through the drive-thru and bought a small strawberry shake. By the time I got home, I was so full and drunk and tired that I couldn't even masturbate to burn off some of the calories to make me feel better before going to bed. Couldn't even masturbate. What the fuck, Craig.
Last night I went to the bar. I had been drinking during the evening before going to the bar. The gallery at school had been open for an art gallery tour that galleries have on Thursdays. You know, the third Thursday kind of thing that is trendy right now among towns that are trying to be somebody. Anyhow, I was working until eight last night. This week had been disgusting, full of tests and projects and papers being due, and Math and figuring out how things work. Much of the work still needed to be completed when I got home last night from work. As soon as I got home I cracked a beer. I called some friends and none answered. Checked my messages. So I called again and left a reply message; some of the voice messages we leave each other are very funny. Anyhow, I sat on the hard kitchen floor and worked on some drawings and drank the beer. The beer escaped quickly. I thought, why am I drinking beer? I poured a tequilla drink. Tequilla is by far one of the top three spirits in the world. Anyhow, then the phone rang and before long I was drinking with a friend who was talking to me from five hours away. We had some good laughs. By the time the conversation was over I had sucked down three drinks. Good, stiff, honest Mexican drinks; and everybody knows there's no such thing as an honest Mexican. Chisto. And then by the time I had finished the project I was probably drunk. And not only, but also, when you finish something, at I tend to relax a bit and often relinquish myself of any other pressing duties. And that's exactly what happened last night.
I went to the bar. Actually, my intent was to go to McDonald's for some reason. I think because I've been hanging on to a coupon for a while, and the thought eating that shit entices me at times; and so last night I thought, Well, I'm finished with this project. Now is a good time for McDonald's. (This is one of those what the fuck, Self, moments I'm talking about in the first paragraph. I mean, who rewards himself with McDonald's? McDonald's is for people who don't eat real food or who never really think of the impacts of fast food on their gastro-intestinal system and kidneys and liver and heart and bones and overall general physiological stability. But then again, name one drinker who actually proves that he gives a shit about his liver or "physiological stability." Drinking is about the worst thing you can do for your body. Ever. I mean, maybe meth is worse or Iodine-13. But anyhow.) At the bar sat a couple whom I have come to admire. The fellow is, well, he not not gorgeous but he has sleek muscular arms, and I could see, well, you know, with him in that way because of the way his arms look, especially when your sitting across the table and the fellow is wearing a tank top, like last night. We sat and talked and drank beer, and the girl who, by the way, produces my favorite radio program here in the valley, was sitting next to me sipping a cocktail that looked green in the dark light. The walls of the bar are brick and cast a dim glow of amber hues across the room. The wood and the lottery machines and the glasses of beer mingle together like a group at a party in a small room in the middle of nowhere. Then my neighbors came in the bar, and it really was a party. We all sat at the table. We talked like thinkers. We laughed madly. We drank like drunks. Across the room at another set of tables was a boy; he and I met a few weeks ago; he uniquely handsome. I called his name as if we were good friends. We didn't really talk much. I showed an interest in him in hopes of inviting him over for a conversation. He visited the table only once to say good-by to others whom he knew better. This town is a very small town, and folks whom you may assume do not know each other, in contrast know each other quite well, because, again, the town is very small. I guess my point of view is that the thought never crosses my mind that other people know the same people I know, but here the misunderstanding that I've been living with is crucial. Crucial, I guess, if I'm looking for any privacy or confidence among comrades in the area, at least in the circle of acquaintances with whom I sometimes choose to associate myself. And how far can you go when you're showing an interest in someone before you've diminished your character? So the uniquely good-looking fellow went home, and the table of folks and I continued drinking.
We went outside for a cigarette. I carried a glass of beer. We stood outside for a long time. The barman came outside. I began to ask the barman a question. He cut me off: "What are you doing with that glass out here?"
"I didn't know."
"What do you mean you didn't know? There's a sign right there. It's brand new."
"A sign? No one reads signs," I said. "You could put up a sign that the bartender's mother licks cunts, and no one would read it."
"Watch youself," he said. "Your beer is on the table. Don't bring your drinks outside."
The neighbors and I chat about life out by the telephone pole. I told them how I don't like the town we live in and that I plan to move. Then they talked some. Then we went inside and talked more. We talked about collecting our compost, because another fellow composts at his place and I compost at our place, and that a whole group of us ought to collect our compost. "And do what with it?" We talked about the benefits of collecting compost even if a household does not produce a garden. We also talked about the faults of collecting so much stuff in life, and if I leave then the compost idea would fail. I said that w could do it just to do it until I leave just in case something bad happens.
"I alwys think worst case scenario," I said. "You should always look at what could happen to obviate loss and damage while simultaneously producing the an avenue for the most propicious benefit." We don't do that in our planning, humans I mean, humans in the planning of towns and sociological and economic infrastructure and logistics. That's why we'e in the mess we're in today (if we are, indeed, in a "mess."). Because for so long we maintained our accounts of natural resources and finances as if we would never run out. But then ields started going dry and desertification is taking place in certain regions of the United States. Like in the midwest and the southeast arguably. The Ogallala Aquifer under the Great Plains is a good example of running out of a resource because humans have failed to institute conservative utilization in the development of towns, cities and farms. The same idea exists in the devourment of top soil for the development of housing in places like Bozeman, Montana and the Skagit Valley in northwestern Washington and Roseburg, Oregon. And you could also look at the plight of various wetlands across the United States. Currently, the Environmental Protection Agency and the State of Florida, and the Department of Agriculture and the Department of the Interior, and the Coast Guard and the US Army Corps of Engineers are grappling with the state of the Everglades and what to do with a dry lake bed that used to be the largest natural wetlands on the planet. And then some states like Georgia and South Carolina with approximately 500 square miles of coastal wetlands are continuing to allow development on wetlands without any mitigation. And wetlands are vitally important to the global eco-system; wetlands, estuaries in particular, serve as the incubators of life forms. Whereas deserts tend to serve as graveyards, if you will; yet more practically labeled, deserts serve as filters. That's why just because a desert exists does not mean that no ecological purpose is served. Water filters best and most assuredly, as well as efficiently, through sand. That's why your aquifers are usuallly underneath a thick bed of sandstone. In any case, back to the point of this parapgraph, to live without planning looking at least 20 years ahead, is foolish. Because our common mistakes are what inhibit us, we humans, from greatness, from moving beyond our humanity, or a least from stepping toward that next level of development: evolution if you will, and moreover, an evolution that seves us rather than us serving the evolution of ourselves. We can get run over in the evolution of ourselves, or we can run over the evolution, like jumping into the current rather than getting knocked down by the current. Anyhow, long paragraph, but lastnight we all talked about collecting ou compost for the reason of just because.
Then we piled into the automobile and drove home.
Then one of the neighbors and I drank wine and smoked cigarttes at my house. She said something that I don't remember now that sounded quite important, and people always do that with me. People tell me things. And then I started to talk a little. I tried my best to get information on a fellow, one of my neighbor's friends, to find out if he may be, you know, well, gay, to see if I could find another handsome homosexual to meet here in this empty town of hot men. But alas, no luck. She kept own about something else, and I may have proceded too furtively. Does that make sense? That I ain't open about everything to everyone, and so I get answers based on tact and thusly achiveve very little over what feels like a long period of time? Anyhow, after the wine, she left, and I went to, yes, McDonald's.
I bought a double quarter pounder with cheese and a big mac and a small order of fries, and then I parked and ate the food. Then I went back through the drive-thru and bought a small strawberry shake. By the time I got home, I was so full and drunk and tired that I couldn't even masturbate to burn off some of the calories to make me feel better before going to bed. Couldn't even masturbate. What the fuck, Craig.