mad drunk genius

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

Tag: Alcohol

No life ever was meaningful, except to other people.

‘I mean, more needs-based education.’
——People are exhausting.
Bigotry needs an excuse; charity is its own.
——Make it till you can fake it.
Where harm is absent, sin is figment.
——Man in seated walker helped up steep hill by strangers.
A last precious sunny day warmth in true fall.
——Memory is never sent to kiln but always clay.
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SATAN SLEEPS IN MY BRAIN

Paying to sleep & maybe dream.
––Each tryst different, varied, but
––never in substance of rapture,
––only wavelength.
It’s brite sunny greeny happiness.
––If I could read a book until required
––bother with others, how joyful
––I would be.
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It’s OK. I know it is

I’m in a relationship. I have been for coming up on two years, and it’s been healthy & amazing & surprising in oh so many ways.

I have fun, certainly. I love her, and she loves me. She takes care of me & makes me happy. What else is there or could be?

But I cant commit.

It’s the stupidest fucking thing, too. I can always say, ‘Three months from now, it’ll all be over.’ And that makes everything OK. But six months more of anything is abominable.

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Stouper Bowl & surroundings

——The drive to Ballard, & walk to brewery half as long.
‘My boyfriend in high school wouldnt have sex with me if Star Trek was on.’
——Super Bowl in Seattle. More dogs (3) than jerseys (2). And one
——is on a dog.
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Scribbled year-old impressions recovered

——’Isnt it a lovely
——sweet sort of fresh
——sort of something?’
The window for success
is always opening in
some places & closing in
others. It’s important to
make it as large as
possible & squeeze thru.
——’It’s OK, we’re all subject
——to the bias of our own
——lives & experiences.’
Hey, keep your eyes on the
prize but also on the path
to it.

——’I dont do all the great work
——I could have.’ No one has or
——does. ‘There’s some possible
——universe where I did, tho.’
I am not the man I used to
be. But I havent long been
a man, if ever.
——’Show me how to
——know better what to do.’
——’Do what?’ ‘That’s what
——I’m asking.’

My body is a temple, but all that’s left is the wailing wall.

When I trip, I try to find a way to see God, but
usually just catch glimpses of the devil.

I am the same person  I was as a child tho no atom, idea or possession remains as it was.
Identity is same-lifetime reincarnation.
——Drinking is its own activity.
Alcohol has more than enough variation & substances, more than an alcohol
ever will appreciate.
——Inebriation lies beyond the laws of math — one becomes ten immediately.
I can tell I’m old because I need sincerity even in parody.

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Everything the same still is different.

Lost, groping, throwing myself of anyone’s stupid pity to
tell me where is best to go, & when.
——Drinking too much before first flight with US Army
——soldier & infantryman Stephen Hawkins, uniformed & flying to
——Dallas to meet his fiance & family for the holidays tho she is
——newly pregnant & he is newly stationed at Fort Lewis & turned
——on to Candy Crush-ish games by that fiance.
Mother of boy, now engaged to his father, sits with us. She, too, lived in
sin. Her religious parents also will need to get used to it.
——Soldier buys Jagerbombs after Guinness  not available for Irish car bombs.
—— I buy us Maker’s on the rocks to feel less an asshole, but he’s on four
——hours drunk at not yet 1 PM. The bar has been high set.

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‘I dont want to mess you up if yr on a roll’ / ‘I dont have anything’

I dont know. I want to write something with purpose, something with a structure that can have some sort of message or at least plot. And  I cant even do that currently. Not even close, even.

What’s happened?

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I’m sure the tree comes to love the vine, in its way

The human world whole & thru is depraved, selfish
& miserable except the idea that it doesnt or
shouldnt have to be.
——’I cant fundraise for human right like gays being able to
——raise children.’
I hate people in aggregate but love their particulars.
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Weak acid is a persistent chubby for yr whole existence.

‘It’s my birthday. Isnt it my birthday?’
——Bars exist to help give strangers a place to gather till they get
——just drunk enough not to care no one knows them.
‘I’m glad I got that off my chest,’ the scat fetishist said.
‘Whiskey neat is like [a novel]. It’s a process. There’s a beginning, a middle & an end.’
——A very cleansing poop, the soothsayer says.
‘It’s my birthdaaaaaay,’ she says, standing on the seat, cushioned.
——Ginger Falcon Punch to the face.
The brown-noser. The bookworm. The hippie.
——Weak acid is a persistent chubby for yr whole existence.
‘Nice sweater, bitch.’
——’You’re rad. Taste my weiner sauce.’
‘It’s my birthday in 11 — no, in 43 minutes.’
——It’s the power of art that someone often first relates their life
——events to some fictional happening.
Most of what happens to everyone else is fictitious, but so is
everything that happens to you.