Guess I've been experiencing a season of writer's block, devoid of any good ideas. From morning coffee to night cap, it felt like I was living like veal. It all started with the auto accident and ended up with a bad cold from walking around in that freezing cold looking for a used car. While sick, I caught up on the news and I was convinced the country took a turn towards fascism. The more I read, the sicker I got. I couldn't take any more terror porn and lies.
Between this post and sending an email to Turkey mentioning how unfortunate it was that the band Otep called it's first e.p. the "J" word; I'm guaranteed to be on some sort of government watch list. The latest scoop is that President Bush started spying on U.S. citizens before 9/11 and I joined Amnesty International on U2's Joshua Tree tour, so I'm a marked man. My last Amnesty letter writing campaign help free a nun in Viet Nam. She said that the christmas cards she received in prison really kept her spirits alive, which freaked me out since I sent her one, never believing it would get to her. She decorated her cell with them. She described her cell as "a cave sealed with razor wire". I won't even get into what they did to her.
So it all got too much and I needed a good time. Then I over did it and got undiagnosed alcohol poisoning. It wasn't so much a hangover as much as it was a beer lobotomy. Like I was practicing dying so when it really happened, I would know what to do. Face the floor and fall down.
It happened so very innocently. I strolled down my street to the movie/pub and caught King Kong. There was a killer beer special and it was a long movie indeed. Towards the end, I was invited to stay around for the party. I seriously needed some human contact. Everyone was smiling, super friendly, and capable of compelling conversation. I meet My Space friends who gave me great big hugs. Hours later, the booze demons were working on everyone's numb skulls and it looked like there might be trouble. Talk turned to gossip and the group got goofy. One girl asked, "Who wants to make some porn?" and scared away some. Others with crazy, grinning expressions, sneaked away looking for trouble. I ended up with a genius bar tender who made exotic drinks for me to try. I asked If I should be drinking this on top of countless beers. The correct answer was "no, you shouldn't mix these in your stomach". Hindsight is 20/20, right? One of the last things I remember was some girl pointing at me saying, " Can somebody make sure he gets home okay? He's been here since 6:00 p.m." I turned around slowly and focused on the clock which said 4:45 a.m. Like Kong, I was going to fall off a skyscraper.
"Oh no! I got to go right now!", I said.
"Make sure you sleep on your stomach", she replied.
The next week I thought I learned my lesson. I caught the late night movie, which was the horrible 80's flick, One Crazy Summer. It starred John Cusack, Bobcat Goldwaith, and Demi Moore. Demi Moore had to save the family homestead by getting the town to go to her terrible rock band's gig, which was completely unrealistic in every way. The bad flick made everyone drink. After the movie, a bunch of musicians sat at the bar and traded war stories about bad gigs, tyrant lead singers, major label offers, motel hells, getting ripped off, and wondering if it was all worth it. This conversation lasted all night and evidently needed to happen.
The high/low point of the evening was finding out that the woman I was crazy about and was #1 on my list actually was really into me, "carried a torch for me" and " got nervous when I was around". I was told she's dating some jerk now. I felt like I missed an exit. I felt like a skier smashing into a tree. Could of used a heads up, guys. I was totally clueless and now can't stop thinking about what could have been. It's just so sad. We ended up leaving as the sun rose, found our house, faced the ground, fell down.
Caetano Veloso - Help
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