mad drunk genius

I used to have all sorts of problems. Now there's just the one.

The tiniest and best form of small talk is not having any

The other day I went to get a hamburger and ran into a friend I used to work with.

Except we aren’t really friends anymore, and I did my best not to have to interact with him while we waited in line to order.

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This too shall pass, but it’ll take longer if you write it down

I used to think the older I got, the fewer bad decisions I would make. But really, I just know when I’m making a bad decision sooner.

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Don’t pass out with your sandals on

According to tradition, Noah was the first one to discover you could take the blood of grapes fermented and get yourself stone naked drunk.

This is yet another reason we know not to take the Bible literally. Antediluvian humans may well have lived for hundreds of years, but they could not have endured all of those years sober.

Age accrues like barnacles, weighing down the flesh and mutilating it with all manner of horrors. The Lord said the upper bound for a lifespan would be six score, but He only deemed it necessary to provide youth for one-and-a-half of them, only designed a spine to handle walking upright for 40 years. After that, just pain. Joints that scream, eyes that retreat into darkness, ears that fail to hear high or low till you’re in a muffling fog.

Or maybe that’s why 500-plus-year-old Noah was in such a bad mood and willing to curse one his three sons, progenitor of a third of the future human race, after he was the one to get piss drunk and pass out in a stupor. Maybe he woke up still drunk and was slurring the whole time.

Then again, if Ham saw Noah didn’t have his shoes on, house rules say it’s a dick move to fuck with them, even if they’re passed out and especially if they’re in their own vineyard.

She knew what she’d said & meant it

She was right, and now she’s gone, and the whole wide world is full of nothing but other people.

Hell is all the people that are what she wasnt. Hell is that she’ll never be again.

It shouldnt be so but is the case that the more unhappy I get, the less I care to have people spend time around me. I resent them for no good reason except their proximity. I feel an urge to become physically abusive to anyone who starts being physically affectionate with me. I feel trapped any time I can’t go away the moment I want to, and I hate having company when it means I cant get rid of someone the moment I want them gone.
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Pavlov’s dog can’t wake the dead

Next to the power station,
in the middle of a perfect summer afternoon,
six police SUVs show up whirring, one after another
with compounding portent.
They unload half a dozen officers near all at once,
some with assault rifles shouldered,
all with guns drawn,
stepping briskly for the house two houses down.

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The streets run wet with piss & Christian charity

Sitting in downtown Renton,
looking out across the street
at a business not yet open,
at its doorway where
keeping out of drizzling rain
are two men and a woman.

She goes in-between two cars,
pulls down her sweatpants a bit,
and squats
to send a stream of steaming piss
into the gutter
to mix with some rainwater.

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I am a fool who knows better & chooses worse

April 11, 2017
——I sat here last year, also with the sun in my eyes.
What good, what hope, is there that this cycle will exceed the
prior ones?
——Waking not-hungover (tho deserved) on a couch as like
——from a nap to hear the splash of stomach purging
——into a toilet walls-away & wondering, ‘Is my
——housemate sick from some microbial invader or
——last nite’s microbrew invited excessive in?’ The
——answer of sickness put-upon or self-made soon
——arrives as he leaves his room to go to work usual.
——You must live with yr misery when you’ve earned it. 

The older I get, the more sensitive I get to my creepiness.
I always was, but I’m more aware now than then & suspect
people will be less forgiving of my flab, wrinkles,
& gray hairs.
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You’ve loved this much before & know how it ends

Knowing & behaving are cousins, but only
kissing cousins. To be fair, well, we already lost.
——Whores know better than to kiss on the
——mouth. That’s how you mix up work & love,
——esp. when both are pleasurable. But I havent
——learned that yet, or ifI have, I cant
——quit doing it. You cant come back.
There is inside me a powerful critic, good & useful
& worthwhile when pointed at a great many things.
But at myself, in a depression, it is nothing but a
magnificent rot, spreading horrible into everything, esp.
what I love. The peculiar genius is to connect all
that makes me happy back to some triggering incident of
unhappiness. ‘Your grandmother is dying & you’re too
old to be enjoying cartoons.’ ‘Your family is in pre-mourning,
and you dont even bother to tell them about those you
love or why.’ ‘Everything you write is embarrassing,
not just too you but anyone who is connected to you.’
——Your happiness is no less worthy.
I dont see how ‘I ruin people’ is a good addition to my
resume, no matter how accurate it is. She knew better.
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Everything terrible thing that happened once can happen again, & worse

——It aint been a year in this margin quite but nearly & may as well.
I’ll switch to a narrower pen in just a line.
——I never know what I want except that it’s always the other thing.
There’s a woman at this bar, lead singer of a damn good band, and she
asked for my number twice, texted at me twice, then ignored me. I dont
fuckin know what she after, but I’m too tired to put any work in to figurin
it out. Maybe that’s what she’s after & if so, good call by her.
——The band playing just now is good enough, but he cant really play
——Roger Miller worth a damn
‘The lead singer has laryngitis.’ Aint that just the way.

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Words that taste

Synesthesia is a fun experience, or can be. Drugs draw it out. They help temporarily pull down barriers between senses or corrode the segregating walls so that later, a moment experienced several ways is understood in one shared way rather than by sensations committee.

Even when full & happy sober, the melding of perceptions strikes, and the one most common is taste & hearing, but language really. I don’t have the oral palette to appreciate much of anything, and yet somehow my brain is able to intake words it doesn’t fully understand or has heard used only rarely before but still grasps some of their provenance & texture and still able to love & enjoy words as if I’m rolling them around on my thoughts for pure pleasure.

Using ‘indolence’ instead of ‘being lazy’ makes a sentence feel massively more clever, more specific. The idiosyncrasies of connotations versus denotations—ah!

Good conversations are like meals that feed you just as well in the remembering of them.