I'm drunk; I get a bit incoherent writing when I'm drunk but
that doesn't stop me.
drinking makes me horny, stupid ,incoherent and somewhat
nostalgic which is bad combination
when I was younger I used to go to go go bars and write there,
slowly getting drunk gawking at the near naked girls and giving them tips I
couldn't afford to give and writing down everything I saw or felt
I am not in a go-go bar now but a Old Man's bar in a dark
corner with my notepad open and getting dark looks from a bartender who is not
used to people coming here to write even if I keep feeding him tips and buying
drinks
I keep thinking of the poem on a poet posted recently about
betrayal and I am getting sad because I am also one of those people who
betrayed her
you have to be close to really betray somebody because
that's the only way you can really do damage
when you know who your enemies are you know how to defend
yourself but you don't know how to defend yourself against the people you think
love you
I am not drunk because of the poem or even the feelings of
the poem evoked with the memories of me betraying her back then when I was
jealous about her and our former temporary boss
I did not intend to get drunk but for some reason I just
kept drinking and now I'm there, thinking about all the stuff about betrayal
and how bad she must feel down there in the clinic after reaching out to
somebody she trusted only to get betrayed
Caesar wasn't defeated by his enemies he was defeated by
Brutus his closest friend
and the more I drink the more I wonder who it is that
betrayed her this time and it only makes me feel guilty and I buy myself
another drink
the old men at the bar look at me strangely as if they can't
understand how I can remain sober enough to jot all of this down
I know I will regret writing this tomorrow because it always
comes out of me, the pain, the attraction, the sense of loss and this distance
that now exists now that she has gone
not just to the clinic but moving on to a different orbit
which there is no more connection
being hated is almost as good as being loved because it
means that someone cares enough to hate me and so I will substitute for what I
really wanted back then and still sort of want
the bartender just wiped the bar in this dark corner in
front of me and asks me if I want another drink and I say yes and he looks at
me and he looksat my pad and he wonders what it is that I am writing and
whether he should throw me out
I haven’t been this badly drunk in a long time, not quite this bad the few times I was with her in
the bar in hometown except that last time when I drank a little too much and
walked out on her and it is a moment I will regret for the rest of my life
getting drunk only brings me back to that moment; I can't
escape it; I can't relieve myself of it; and so I will constantly write about
it, and revisit it, whenever I get this inebriated
anyway I am almost to the point where I can't write anymore
and so I am going to put the pen down finish my drink and then make my way back
home trying not to hit anything along the way
No comments:
Post a Comment