mad drunk genius

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

Tag: cunnilingus

August 2015: If I cant just get a little high tonite, I ought to get real drunk

Aug. 6, 2015
The lights are too dim, but you get used to it.
——The difference between an art museum & art for sale
——at posh coffee shops & cocktail lounges is the exhibitions
——occasionally change at the museum.
What luck that we wake together in this universe with our shared consciousness!
——’But to conclude our previous conversation…’
Bringing a child to watch performance art is like playing Russian Roulette
with a few rounds of formative trauma chambered.
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All coffee & whiskey & goddamn

I’m sick of spending all of time thinking about & telling myself I’m going to write something, then not.

I’m sick of wanting to be everywhere else that I ‘m not, and telling myself that if only, if only I had more time, or if only I werent spending so much of it with a girl or at a particular job, I’d be so much more creative & wonderful & live up to all of those expectations I have & others have for me.

But here I sit at a bar, drinking way too much, having drunk way too much already, with a job interview in the morning & more to memorize after that, and none of it fucking matters because I’m not FULFILLING MY TRUE PURPOSE, whatever that means.

(Hello double well-whiskey neat.)

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Everything is still just as wonderful as I remembered

For weeks, I’d been hoping to get ahold of some Psilocybin mushrooms and sort of turn back the tide of self-obliteration that always builds so much, especially when I’m not writing anything (good). Someone did, and we took them together, and life got better.

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In the end, my eyes were dry but my chin was wet

I was getting out of work after another long but OK day & I’d been told about that Connecticut thing & how 20 kids had died, but I hadnt had any time to really think or care about & anyway, it’s my job to tell people on the street that everday 19000 kids dont make it to their 5th birthday because of things like diarrhea & getting bit my a mosquito, so I didnt think it was or could be a very big deal.

And on the way to the bar, because that’s what I do, I was putting my iPhone back in my pocket but it missed & hit the uneven rocky part of the pavement & cracked the front screen in a half dozen places. And I said, ‘Fuck,’ and got upset, but continued to the bar because now I had a proximate excuse for my drinking, so I was weirdly happy.

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June 2012: I can’t think of much worse than waking up at 30 regretting nothing I’ve done and everything I haven’t.

I’m all along and going with the flow you know, I mean I just keep heading where the sloshing takes me, but it keeps taking to the same goddamned handful of places, and I have to ask, what kind of bullshit is that?

Whoever said we were better off dead didn’t realize there’s no better or worse about being dead. It’s just not being anything.

I mean, ain’t it?

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February 2012: Thankfully, sobriety is only a transitory state.

I suppose it’s OK to want things you can’t have so long as you don’t want them very badly. Or have alcohol.

——God, he’s eating girls out in the bathroom. Again.

  • I honestly was put on this earth to do three things: write, drink and eat pussy.
  • Occasionally I write about eating pussy while I’m drunk.

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