i blew for the law and the law won.
he pens an update-- dear diary, i got busted for drunk driving--the print renews with the best of all possible news in the best of all possible worlds--14 hours in a holding cell, trying to sleep away cognisance of my situation on a wonderful concrete slab (curiously the man locked up across from me has a cushioned mat, he of the assistive-parent-less persuasion [unlike my cozy suburban self], dialing incessantly on the loudspeaker collect-call phone a number ending in 8202, to no visible purpose, perhaps dreaming of an arrangement from the outside for the help of a bail-bondsman, but more likely staying put until after the christmas holiday [for the time setting is the morning/afternoon of december 24th, sleighbells a-ringin'], stranded as he is betwixt a season judicial recess--this would be moi if mummy and daddy were to hit their final note of frustration, if i thus no longer had them as my supportive last-chance netting). I wonder what i struck with my car, where i was when it happened, if i injured or killed anyone (which seems unlikely on a paltry $750 bond, collected from mom's casino collection of stowed-away banknotes)--it's all a blank, as i was naturally blacked out. It's the fault of that second half-pint that i didn't mean to bring along, stowed away in my backpack--in the throes of drunkeness, at the jovial goodbye coffeehouse party, i neglected to keep in mind that a full pint of triple-distilled is a guaranteed blackout--i had that familiar feeling of needing more, sensing that i could 'perform' better (when only a week earlier i was made painfully aware of the more annoying/abrasive qualities instrinsic to my alcoholic intoxication).
but here's a fun thought-game--my dad, in fixing my car, cannot explain why my tie-rod was broken to the exception of all other mechanical parts in the surrounding areas (besides the obvious fender/bumper damage c/o striking that mysterious and unknown object). He floats the theory--perhaps i crashed into 'something' because my tie-rod broke, unfortunately enough, while i was totally .24 plastered. it seems almost...cosmically arranged.
to return to that theoretical appearance of an 'intelligent design' in the tie-rod-broken-first scenario--my first reaction would be to insist that if God had ordained it thus, then he must detest me, must have thought me ripe for a thrashing. as long as i prefer to remain cynical in regards to all that befalls me, it goes no further than this godforsaken scrap of paranoia ex domini.
--but consider--i haven't drunk a drop since (though it's been but a week and one day hence), and more pertinently, i haven't desired to. the thought of drinking now instills a wholly new terror in me, for i am no longer one untouched by the possible consequences. i have been caught, marked, and am treading on the thinnest of legal ice (relative to my specific crime, of course). i am made to see once again my inability to be rational and moderate while drinking, i am again shown how predisposed i am to rolling blackouts, a memory-less depth from which any christopherian monstrosity can blindly emerge (split lips, stairway-dives, smashed automobiles).
so too am i now averse to picking up any other recreational intoxicant, as has lately reemerged as a tired fad; i hang by a slim thread thanks to an exhalation rank with the liquored stench of a triple-limit b.a.c. to follow this disaster with an accompanying drug possession charge would be to condemn myself to the stiffest and most example-setting of penalties.
so the design intelligent, from this fresher perspective, looks like the most probable stake-thrust yet into the heart of my insobriety. i am almost compelled to end this communique with something a la 'a blessing in disguise?', but that would be a bit trite, no? so hey, let's make no resolutions and leave it all kinda open-ended as i nightly pray that i don't get jail-time.
but here's a fun thought-game--my dad, in fixing my car, cannot explain why my tie-rod was broken to the exception of all other mechanical parts in the surrounding areas (besides the obvious fender/bumper damage c/o striking that mysterious and unknown object). He floats the theory--perhaps i crashed into 'something' because my tie-rod broke, unfortunately enough, while i was totally .24 plastered. it seems almost...cosmically arranged.
to return to that theoretical appearance of an 'intelligent design' in the tie-rod-broken-first scenario--my first reaction would be to insist that if God had ordained it thus, then he must detest me, must have thought me ripe for a thrashing. as long as i prefer to remain cynical in regards to all that befalls me, it goes no further than this godforsaken scrap of paranoia ex domini.
--but consider--i haven't drunk a drop since (though it's been but a week and one day hence), and more pertinently, i haven't desired to. the thought of drinking now instills a wholly new terror in me, for i am no longer one untouched by the possible consequences. i have been caught, marked, and am treading on the thinnest of legal ice (relative to my specific crime, of course). i am made to see once again my inability to be rational and moderate while drinking, i am again shown how predisposed i am to rolling blackouts, a memory-less depth from which any christopherian monstrosity can blindly emerge (split lips, stairway-dives, smashed automobiles).
so too am i now averse to picking up any other recreational intoxicant, as has lately reemerged as a tired fad; i hang by a slim thread thanks to an exhalation rank with the liquored stench of a triple-limit b.a.c. to follow this disaster with an accompanying drug possession charge would be to condemn myself to the stiffest and most example-setting of penalties.
so the design intelligent, from this fresher perspective, looks like the most probable stake-thrust yet into the heart of my insobriety. i am almost compelled to end this communique with something a la 'a blessing in disguise?', but that would be a bit trite, no? so hey, let's make no resolutions and leave it all kinda open-ended as i nightly pray that i don't get jail-time.