happy new years, complete with vomitorium
I have alcohol poisoning.
No, this is not from New Year's Eve partying. I didn't even go out last night. I was supposed to go to Jenna's black n white fancy-pants party for rich people, but instead me and Jerm sat around smoking weed in the Flint house, listening to all the sirens, fireworks, gunshots and bombs, and feeling like shit and like a million dollars all at once.
Or like a million dollars somebody shit on. Somebody who just had White Castle, which did nothing to further my tormented digestive system last night.
I actually got alcohol poisoning on Saturday night, while watching UFC 66 and realizing, no matter how drunk I am, that I always know who will win every fight.
I drank a 40 of Mickey's Ice, chased it all with a pint of Gibley's gin, and then had a few beers, I think. I don't remember much after that, so Jerm had to inform me Sunday morning why I have a rugburn on my face.
Apparently, I got up and tried to kick him out of nowhere, so he grabbed my foot. Then, without him even having to trip me, I fell right onto my eye and slid. I managed, however, not to spill my beer.
Shortly thereafter, everybody went to the bar but me, because I was hammered already. As soon as they left, I stole all the booze in the house, which is still, untouched, in the trunk of my car, and I reversed through the neighbor's lawn because Jerm's car had parked me in.
The next thing I remember is going the wrong way on the expressway. Traffic came at me at 70 mph, two lanes wide, and I steered onto the shoulder to dodge incoming cars as I sipped another Budweiser. I remember thinking "jeez, I should turn around!", but I didn't until I reached my exit, where I made a U turn and pulled onto Thompson road.
The next morning, my car was redolent with beer, which has spilled all over my CD case, some dvds, my schoolbooks and a copy of 'Into the Wild', which Angie let me borrow. Mom made eggs and venison tenderloin for breakfast, which was totally awesome, but I could do little more than nibble at it gingerly before excusing myself to throw up.
That's when I realized that what I had was more than a hangover. I couldn't even keep down a glass of water. I was ready to crawl into bed and die when Jerm called and suggested a liberal application of what we consider to be our cure-all: marijuana and Chinese buffet.
It was actually pretty fun. I ate tons, then puked it all up, and then came back and ate tons more. Eventually, I managed to keep food down, and left satisfied and full.
We headed to Davison, bought more pot, and then returned to Flint, where we fully intended to attend a party or bar of some kind. However, I still didn't feel well, and Jerm, perhaps sensing this, opted to stay in. That's a best friend for you. I could have spent New Year's miserable and in bed, but instead he was there to make sure I made the best out of what I had.
This rather lengthy exposition leads me to my point, and the seemingly manditory moment of poignance and deep thought which unifies all my excursions into biographical nonsense.
The point relies on me making something I've never made before: New Year's resolution.
Now, I'm not exactly sure what is entailed by a resolution, but at the closing of a chronological sequitor, one can be sure that certain nostalgic and speculative devices become active within the brain and set to work levying the contents of the life contained therein. So what, when I took that look into myself, did I see this time?
Change, finally. Not as a person. I'm done with that. I am not a work of art for my artist's mind to pour over and perfect. Life is supposed to be the art, and it is my frustration with the stagnance of that which led me to pen that last entry, in which I'd hoped to raze the whole thing down to the foundation and rebuild.
Jerm has completed EMT training and, now that he could have a good job as an EMT, has decided that there's not enough action in it, and has plans to join the military and be in boot camp by January 28. He's already signed on.
As brothers (which we are, common blood running through us or not, don't kid yourself.), we've experienced much of the same things. Our lives have run a common course. We stuck around town after high school, hung out all the time, went to the same parties, and made sure that anything one of us is doing is made available for the other to join in on as well. We always have been together, until now.
Will we still be best friends, when he goes to the army and I stay here, still wallowing in the scraps of what may some day turn out to be a life? I can't imagine it as otherwise, but who knows. Life is transient to Jerm. He attaches no sentimentality to anything. He never keeps posessions, or friends, or any constant for very long. He figures that they only tie him down, and that there are always ways to acquire more. For so long, I've been a constant. Perhaps its finally time we parted ways, maybe becoming friends, or even acquaintances, instead of brothers. Perhaps. Only time will tell, anyhow; the tricksome thing that it is.
This brings me back to my original point: time, and the Resolution, stamped with a capital R and ready to be dignified by the perameters of necessity and yearly forecast. And here it is:
I will not be disappointed. I have realized that my life's great adventure is to make the most out of whatever I have, and I will not be disappointed by anything that I do any longer.
I'm alright, I'll be alright, and if I don't feel alright then I realize that I'm free to change things without having to destroy all of it and start again.
That's it, very simply put. Its one day into a new year, and I already feel that I'm a full year older.
Maybe by tomorrow, I'll be well again, and this endless gray fugue of apprehension will lift from me, perhaps replaced by the excitement of being alive. That is what I hope for.
Until then, I have alcohol poisoning.
No, this is not from New Year's Eve partying.
No, this is not from New Year's Eve partying. I didn't even go out last night. I was supposed to go to Jenna's black n white fancy-pants party for rich people, but instead me and Jerm sat around smoking weed in the Flint house, listening to all the sirens, fireworks, gunshots and bombs, and feeling like shit and like a million dollars all at once.
Or like a million dollars somebody shit on. Somebody who just had White Castle, which did nothing to further my tormented digestive system last night.
I actually got alcohol poisoning on Saturday night, while watching UFC 66 and realizing, no matter how drunk I am, that I always know who will win every fight.
I drank a 40 of Mickey's Ice, chased it all with a pint of Gibley's gin, and then had a few beers, I think. I don't remember much after that, so Jerm had to inform me Sunday morning why I have a rugburn on my face.
Apparently, I got up and tried to kick him out of nowhere, so he grabbed my foot. Then, without him even having to trip me, I fell right onto my eye and slid. I managed, however, not to spill my beer.
Shortly thereafter, everybody went to the bar but me, because I was hammered already. As soon as they left, I stole all the booze in the house, which is still, untouched, in the trunk of my car, and I reversed through the neighbor's lawn because Jerm's car had parked me in.
The next thing I remember is going the wrong way on the expressway. Traffic came at me at 70 mph, two lanes wide, and I steered onto the shoulder to dodge incoming cars as I sipped another Budweiser. I remember thinking "jeez, I should turn around!", but I didn't until I reached my exit, where I made a U turn and pulled onto Thompson road.
The next morning, my car was redolent with beer, which has spilled all over my CD case, some dvds, my schoolbooks and a copy of 'Into the Wild', which Angie let me borrow. Mom made eggs and venison tenderloin for breakfast, which was totally awesome, but I could do little more than nibble at it gingerly before excusing myself to throw up.
That's when I realized that what I had was more than a hangover. I couldn't even keep down a glass of water. I was ready to crawl into bed and die when Jerm called and suggested a liberal application of what we consider to be our cure-all: marijuana and Chinese buffet.
It was actually pretty fun. I ate tons, then puked it all up, and then came back and ate tons more. Eventually, I managed to keep food down, and left satisfied and full.
We headed to Davison, bought more pot, and then returned to Flint, where we fully intended to attend a party or bar of some kind. However, I still didn't feel well, and Jerm, perhaps sensing this, opted to stay in. That's a best friend for you. I could have spent New Year's miserable and in bed, but instead he was there to make sure I made the best out of what I had.
This rather lengthy exposition leads me to my point, and the seemingly manditory moment of poignance and deep thought which unifies all my excursions into biographical nonsense.
The point relies on me making something I've never made before: New Year's resolution.
Now, I'm not exactly sure what is entailed by a resolution, but at the closing of a chronological sequitor, one can be sure that certain nostalgic and speculative devices become active within the brain and set to work levying the contents of the life contained therein. So what, when I took that look into myself, did I see this time?
Change, finally. Not as a person. I'm done with that. I am not a work of art for my artist's mind to pour over and perfect. Life is supposed to be the art, and it is my frustration with the stagnance of that which led me to pen that last entry, in which I'd hoped to raze the whole thing down to the foundation and rebuild.
Jerm has completed EMT training and, now that he could have a good job as an EMT, has decided that there's not enough action in it, and has plans to join the military and be in boot camp by January 28. He's already signed on.
As brothers (which we are, common blood running through us or not, don't kid yourself.), we've experienced much of the same things. Our lives have run a common course. We stuck around town after high school, hung out all the time, went to the same parties, and made sure that anything one of us is doing is made available for the other to join in on as well. We always have been together, until now.
Will we still be best friends, when he goes to the army and I stay here, still wallowing in the scraps of what may some day turn out to be a life? I can't imagine it as otherwise, but who knows. Life is transient to Jerm. He attaches no sentimentality to anything. He never keeps posessions, or friends, or any constant for very long. He figures that they only tie him down, and that there are always ways to acquire more. For so long, I've been a constant. Perhaps its finally time we parted ways, maybe becoming friends, or even acquaintances, instead of brothers. Perhaps. Only time will tell, anyhow; the tricksome thing that it is.
This brings me back to my original point: time, and the Resolution, stamped with a capital R and ready to be dignified by the perameters of necessity and yearly forecast. And here it is:
I will not be disappointed. I have realized that my life's great adventure is to make the most out of whatever I have, and I will not be disappointed by anything that I do any longer.
I'm alright, I'll be alright, and if I don't feel alright then I realize that I'm free to change things without having to destroy all of it and start again.
That's it, very simply put. Its one day into a new year, and I already feel that I'm a full year older.
Maybe by tomorrow, I'll be well again, and this endless gray fugue of apprehension will lift from me, perhaps replaced by the excitement of being alive. That is what I hope for.
Until then, I have alcohol poisoning.
No, this is not from New Year's Eve partying.