Too sloppy

by maddrunkgenius

I wrote a few more things in 2014 than what was published here. But not many more.

And I wonder what in god’s name is going to happen to me.

I don’t drink as much as I used to. And that’s part of it. The elixir of certainty helps push through any dams of self-doubt with much flash-flooding force. But also it certainly must be my inability to find aloneness and distill thoughts, or have them at all.

Sex is good. I’m in a relationship that seems to be ongoingly possible for its non-exclusiveness. There are rules. There is honor. But it is not staid, and there is much room for adventure.

So I’m happy. Work, when I have it, doesn’t make me ponder the bottle of Draino or seek the loaded handgun. But I don’t produce anything. My happiness, once it’s passed away, leads to nothing.

I always forget, when recalling past moments, how miserable I was from about junior high on till recent. It makes sense, from the perspective of natural selection, why a body oughtn’t remember clearly how bad things were once before. But this one small trick is enough to fool everything about one’s self.

So here I am, mostly satisfied in the moment, but sending no messages to my future selves or others to remind them of that self-span’s worth.

I do more psychedelics now. Maybe that’s it. It’s easy to blame ego-bruisers for the lack of initiative I know I experience. Alcohol makes one stupid, and certain. Hallucinogens make one no more intelligent, but more aware of one’s failings, and less certain of gifts.

Is that it?

No: I think that if I were alone for more hours each day, could afford the bar tab, I’d come to sit alone and fill my belly with the conviction to vomit ideas out of reverberating neurons to pecking fingers.

Still, I’m too old now, too slothful & too sloppy, to think myself capable of immortal genius anymore.

But the genius of alcohol is its ability to shush that critic with lies that say, ‘You are that wonderful, perhaps,’ and in morning light, you know you’re not, but at least you did something. And life requires doing things, even if someone has done it before & better already.

If I’m not a writer, then I’m just some guy. Well, I know I’m just some guy.  But drunk & writing, I know I can  be more than that to someone else.

Maybe.