"last night" equals 2 days ago
last night, after a miserable day at work on hardly any sleep, i was completely exhausted, but i was also ready for a fucking drink.
so, how many steps?
do i pass out?
or do i drink and then pass out?
well, seein's how i've been tucked away in my house all week in sober somber solitude, i was feeling ambitious. the "drink and then pass out" option won. i biked downtown, took the sexy broadway bridge for my first time ever.
i hate downtown but i love the process of getting there. because it always involves one of this town's thousand bridges, and i am in love with bridges, all of them. hovering right in the middle of it all. above it all. outside looking in from the above side of the inside. the city simplifies to a quiet riot of rectangles and twinkles. a big ugly beautiful machine. mirrored by the water. from up there it's hard to imagine all the humans down below, their basic individual act of driving, riding, walking, being down this street or that street- a tiny part of chaos.
***i have this aussie mate, kat. we haven't been hanging out long at all, but she is easily and instantly one of my favorite people ever. i adore her because she's so feral, and she's a balanced blend of cynicism and faith like me. she's also a total night creature like me (a rare find) and she's down for the epic hangouts. epic hangouts i love. when you can share space with a person for hours or days and enjoy their presence but not feel like you need to go out of your way to entertain each other the entire time. kat and i usually meet up late at night. if we meet up at her house, our activities often involve heaping scoops of mashed potatoes and over-steamed vegetables and movies. if we meet up at a bar, our activities often involve sharing cigarettes and getting very wasted, she on her vodka cranberries, me on my shots of whiskey chased with beer. the bar eventually closes, always way too soon, (she tells me that bars in australia never close! and i tell her we should probably go bar-hopping there someday) alas, we are in america, so at 2 a.m. we stumble out into the night, shiny-eyed and energetic. we usually end up at her house, stay up til 7 or 8 in the morning sobering up, nuking strange frozen foods and talking in whispers so as not to wake the roommates. then we pass out in her sunlight-proof basement until the day is over. we wake up and move around slowly, comforted by the quiet and the blackness of the windows. she makes me coffee and toast. eventually i go home. ****
kat is who i met up with downtown last night. i was uncharacteristically low on nocturnal fuel so i didn't feel all that prepared for what i assumed would end up an 8 a.m. bedtime. but it turned out she could only stay awhile anyways. her man would be home from work soon, and she wanted to make him dinner. which most likely involved mashed potatoes.
we went to dante's because that's where she works, and i've discovered she is loyal to her places of employment. this is where she will consume her vodka cranberries, should she find herself downtown needing a drink. there was an awful rock band playing-4 or 5 muscly doods with tense square jaws, stiffly plucking and banging their instruments too methodically for my taste. they played their instruments well; the music just sucked. it made me squint my eyes and bare my teeth and jerkily bop my head in sarcasm. it made me drink my beer fast. it was too loud in there to have anything that resembled a conversation, so we sat there staring off into space and smiling at each other every now and then. lopsided smiles that were code for, "yeah girl i know! this band totally sucks!" less than an hour later, kat had to take off.
"but first," she screamed in my ear, "let's have a shot!"
a peculiar suggestion. kat never takes shots, but i screamed in reply, "uh sure! ok!" she ordered them. our 'shots' arrived in 3/4 full PINT GLASSES much to my surprise. some weird way too sweet red concoction i later found out was called a "cherry bomb"....red bull and something else and a couple different liquors i couldn't taste at all. despite the capacity of liquid involved, we sucked 'em down in 30 seconds or less through tiny neon straws. it was enough to leave me thirsty for more (alcohol that is, not cherry bombs)...my desire for sleep had suddenly transformed into desire for further inebriation. kat and i parted ways and i found myself purchasing a 6-pack of fat tire at the plaid pantry near tai's house. i called tai. yes, tai would like some beer. yes, tai would like a visitor. we sat in her tiny yarn-infested room, worshipping the space heater and shootin' the shit.
and drinking, drinking, drunk.
upon drunkenness we put on our shoes and followed a fuzzy impulse for adventure. amrit was down the street dancing at the "nightlight"...my love for amrit transcends my lack of enthusiasm for the 'nightlight', so we walked over there.( tai peed behind a shrub. my fingers got numb with cold) i love amrit so much that, apparently, shortly after a generous shot of whiskey, i thought it was a good idea to charge at her like a bull, head butt her in the stomach right there on the dancefloor. in return, she grabbed me by the locks and kneed me in the cunt a few times. then we smooched and freaked to bad hiphop until closing time.
next thing i know we're downtown again, eating cheese fries at the roxy. (amrit and i are always eating cheese fries at the roxy. and over the weeks we've gradually recruited a small army of cheese fry fiends. it keeps growing and growing. tai is now addicted as well)
next thing i know after that my eyes pop open and there i am in tai's bed, shocked by the daylight and staring up at the ceiling doing what i always do immediately upon waking up after a heavy night of boozin': slowly piecing together the events of the night before. that may not sound like a particularly healthy situation to be in, but i find those 5 minutes to be super special! the rapt attention you must give to your memory. how it all starts out as a total haze, an abstract idea of an experience. then how random scenes start swirling around in your head, adding up and bumping into each other and becoming more and more clear until suddenly everything is in order and makes just enough sense. like writing a story.
and sometimes, later on, as you can see, i actually write that story.
oh great. i am inspired by heavy drinking.
*******
and it's been quite a while since i've completed that 'piecing together' process with anything but a mischievous grin on my face. this morning was no exception. this morning, besides the smile, i also found a small scratch on my face, near my eye on the right temple. it must be from scrappin' with amrit. this too makes me smile. this remnant of playful drunken violence. i've never been in a real fight before, and i'm proud of that, but oh how i cherish a good booze beating every now and then.
i've got sticky sugar whiskey mouth. gross. so i roll off the bed and trudge up the stairs to chug some water. i'm still kind of drunk. it's way too early in the morning. i lay back down, try to sleep again. no go. this always happens when i get wasted. i pass out cold for 3 or 4 hours. then my eyes pop open, and there's really no use in shutting them again. sleep is over.
after an hour or so i'm sick of trying. my brain zeroes in on warm steamy thoughts of espresso and loitering with books and pens. i pull on my britches. pull on my coat. i reek of smoke, i'm somewhat ill, and i've just peed in a bathroom that's out of toilet paper. still i'm strangely ready to greet the day. excited even. it's been forever since i've been awake for daylight hours, with nothing but free time. i nudge tai to let her know i'm leaving. she thrusts a hand in the air; we slap five goodbye. i shove my hands in my coat pockets and walk slow breathing deep down 21st avenue. my toxic cells are starved for nutrients, so i stop into the food co-op. i end up with a voodoo donut. oops.
this is where the story must end. a chance encounter happens on the very next block; my quiet day of solitude is swallowed up immediately in madness. suddenly there are far more urgent matters to tend to. enter twilight zone. i'm dying to write about it, but i don't really have the right.
*********************
ah! shit! i realize after reading over this how similar it is to my previous entry. that's funny. maybe i should stop writing about being drunk for a while.
so, how many steps?
do i pass out?
or do i drink and then pass out?
well, seein's how i've been tucked away in my house all week in sober somber solitude, i was feeling ambitious. the "drink and then pass out" option won. i biked downtown, took the sexy broadway bridge for my first time ever.
i hate downtown but i love the process of getting there. because it always involves one of this town's thousand bridges, and i am in love with bridges, all of them. hovering right in the middle of it all. above it all. outside looking in from the above side of the inside. the city simplifies to a quiet riot of rectangles and twinkles. a big ugly beautiful machine. mirrored by the water. from up there it's hard to imagine all the humans down below, their basic individual act of driving, riding, walking, being down this street or that street- a tiny part of chaos.
***i have this aussie mate, kat. we haven't been hanging out long at all, but she is easily and instantly one of my favorite people ever. i adore her because she's so feral, and she's a balanced blend of cynicism and faith like me. she's also a total night creature like me (a rare find) and she's down for the epic hangouts. epic hangouts i love. when you can share space with a person for hours or days and enjoy their presence but not feel like you need to go out of your way to entertain each other the entire time. kat and i usually meet up late at night. if we meet up at her house, our activities often involve heaping scoops of mashed potatoes and over-steamed vegetables and movies. if we meet up at a bar, our activities often involve sharing cigarettes and getting very wasted, she on her vodka cranberries, me on my shots of whiskey chased with beer. the bar eventually closes, always way too soon, (she tells me that bars in australia never close! and i tell her we should probably go bar-hopping there someday) alas, we are in america, so at 2 a.m. we stumble out into the night, shiny-eyed and energetic. we usually end up at her house, stay up til 7 or 8 in the morning sobering up, nuking strange frozen foods and talking in whispers so as not to wake the roommates. then we pass out in her sunlight-proof basement until the day is over. we wake up and move around slowly, comforted by the quiet and the blackness of the windows. she makes me coffee and toast. eventually i go home. ****
kat is who i met up with downtown last night. i was uncharacteristically low on nocturnal fuel so i didn't feel all that prepared for what i assumed would end up an 8 a.m. bedtime. but it turned out she could only stay awhile anyways. her man would be home from work soon, and she wanted to make him dinner. which most likely involved mashed potatoes.
we went to dante's because that's where she works, and i've discovered she is loyal to her places of employment. this is where she will consume her vodka cranberries, should she find herself downtown needing a drink. there was an awful rock band playing-4 or 5 muscly doods with tense square jaws, stiffly plucking and banging their instruments too methodically for my taste. they played their instruments well; the music just sucked. it made me squint my eyes and bare my teeth and jerkily bop my head in sarcasm. it made me drink my beer fast. it was too loud in there to have anything that resembled a conversation, so we sat there staring off into space and smiling at each other every now and then. lopsided smiles that were code for, "yeah girl i know! this band totally sucks!" less than an hour later, kat had to take off.
"but first," she screamed in my ear, "let's have a shot!"
a peculiar suggestion. kat never takes shots, but i screamed in reply, "uh sure! ok!" she ordered them. our 'shots' arrived in 3/4 full PINT GLASSES much to my surprise. some weird way too sweet red concoction i later found out was called a "cherry bomb"....red bull and something else and a couple different liquors i couldn't taste at all. despite the capacity of liquid involved, we sucked 'em down in 30 seconds or less through tiny neon straws. it was enough to leave me thirsty for more (alcohol that is, not cherry bombs)...my desire for sleep had suddenly transformed into desire for further inebriation. kat and i parted ways and i found myself purchasing a 6-pack of fat tire at the plaid pantry near tai's house. i called tai. yes, tai would like some beer. yes, tai would like a visitor. we sat in her tiny yarn-infested room, worshipping the space heater and shootin' the shit.
and drinking, drinking, drunk.
upon drunkenness we put on our shoes and followed a fuzzy impulse for adventure. amrit was down the street dancing at the "nightlight"...my love for amrit transcends my lack of enthusiasm for the 'nightlight', so we walked over there.( tai peed behind a shrub. my fingers got numb with cold) i love amrit so much that, apparently, shortly after a generous shot of whiskey, i thought it was a good idea to charge at her like a bull, head butt her in the stomach right there on the dancefloor. in return, she grabbed me by the locks and kneed me in the cunt a few times. then we smooched and freaked to bad hiphop until closing time.
next thing i know we're downtown again, eating cheese fries at the roxy. (amrit and i are always eating cheese fries at the roxy. and over the weeks we've gradually recruited a small army of cheese fry fiends. it keeps growing and growing. tai is now addicted as well)
next thing i know after that my eyes pop open and there i am in tai's bed, shocked by the daylight and staring up at the ceiling doing what i always do immediately upon waking up after a heavy night of boozin': slowly piecing together the events of the night before. that may not sound like a particularly healthy situation to be in, but i find those 5 minutes to be super special! the rapt attention you must give to your memory. how it all starts out as a total haze, an abstract idea of an experience. then how random scenes start swirling around in your head, adding up and bumping into each other and becoming more and more clear until suddenly everything is in order and makes just enough sense. like writing a story.
and sometimes, later on, as you can see, i actually write that story.
oh great. i am inspired by heavy drinking.
*******
and it's been quite a while since i've completed that 'piecing together' process with anything but a mischievous grin on my face. this morning was no exception. this morning, besides the smile, i also found a small scratch on my face, near my eye on the right temple. it must be from scrappin' with amrit. this too makes me smile. this remnant of playful drunken violence. i've never been in a real fight before, and i'm proud of that, but oh how i cherish a good booze beating every now and then.
i've got sticky sugar whiskey mouth. gross. so i roll off the bed and trudge up the stairs to chug some water. i'm still kind of drunk. it's way too early in the morning. i lay back down, try to sleep again. no go. this always happens when i get wasted. i pass out cold for 3 or 4 hours. then my eyes pop open, and there's really no use in shutting them again. sleep is over.
after an hour or so i'm sick of trying. my brain zeroes in on warm steamy thoughts of espresso and loitering with books and pens. i pull on my britches. pull on my coat. i reek of smoke, i'm somewhat ill, and i've just peed in a bathroom that's out of toilet paper. still i'm strangely ready to greet the day. excited even. it's been forever since i've been awake for daylight hours, with nothing but free time. i nudge tai to let her know i'm leaving. she thrusts a hand in the air; we slap five goodbye. i shove my hands in my coat pockets and walk slow breathing deep down 21st avenue. my toxic cells are starved for nutrients, so i stop into the food co-op. i end up with a voodoo donut. oops.
this is where the story must end. a chance encounter happens on the very next block; my quiet day of solitude is swallowed up immediately in madness. suddenly there are far more urgent matters to tend to. enter twilight zone. i'm dying to write about it, but i don't really have the right.
*********************
ah! shit! i realize after reading over this how similar it is to my previous entry. that's funny. maybe i should stop writing about being drunk for a while.