mad drunk genius

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

Month: July, 2017

This is 36 hours awake, and I feel amazing

I didn’t have any reason not to sleep last night. No reason to stay up till now and passed. But here I am! Awake, vibrant, manic.

What a run I’ve had! and for the first time in I’m not sure how many years.

I ought to have used it better, but I used it so well! I wrote, I wrote. And now I’m exhausted. My brain is quitting on me. Words get dream-typed instead of actually typed. Objects melt and breathe if I look at them too long. Flashes go by at eyes’ edge but not when you look at it. Every sound is new and unfamiliar till I rub my face and really give it a slow think over.

Till now I felt smart! Clever. I solved a problem interacting with a dysfunctional family: mother and father arguing loudly in the neighborhood streets with threats of violence, the woman apparently drunk being kicked out of a car by the man who’s ready to drive off and leave her and her two children, girls. He was willing to take his own progeny with him though. I don’t know if he did.

I left before the situation resolved. I was probably being annoying as fuck, but I wanted to make sure no one was in imminent danger and try to get calmed down to a point where the cops wouldn’t come.  Not too long ago, they swarmed this block. Being a nosey, awkward guy inserting himself in your self-medicated couple’s therapy is still preferable to a drunk woman getting gunned down in front of her children.

It was good. They gave me things for later, what your mind and ears can drink in and refashion with imagination. I think I’ve got something solved.

But I didn’t write that down ever. And now my mind is losing all coherence, so I physically can’t tonight. And tonight I die! Because tomorrow someone new wakes up, slower, less confident, less joyful and energetic in everything.

It’s like eating a great meal and having to choose between forcing it all into your mouth hole till you’re almost sick to taking it home to warm it up and it being straight up garbage or at least some pale imitation.

But my mind can’t eat any more day or night right now. I hope tomorrow’s leftovers aren’t all bad.

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.