3:25 AM, A Little Bit Drunk...
If there's anything I've learned in this past week, alcohol, weed, or any sort of mind-altering substance is a complete creativity killer. I went on a rather long streak of staying up until 5 AM every night, my mind swimming with thoughts, creativity streaming out of my fingertips, filling a blank computer screen. But even one drink, one puff of a blunt, one Vicodin and suddenly all I can think about is stuffing myself with cheese and foie gras (give me a break, I just got back from Europe), watching some droning late-night television, drinking a glass of wine to top off the buzz, and settling into a restless, nightmare-ridden slumber.
This morning, I awoke at 7 AM to the sound of my mother's shrill voice screaming for me to sit on the couch and wait for the guy from Con Edison to come and check the meter and asking why the house stinks of alcohol as soon as I come home. I settled into an uncomfortable half-sleep on the couch while Dog licked my feet and Katie Couric babbled some nonsense on the television. I was jolted awake when the mailman came at ten, resulting in Dog's maniacal barking. Awake again at 2 PM when the man from Con Edison finally came, greeted Dog by name, gave him a pat, and regarded me with a dismissive wave of his hand. Dog is definitely more popular than anyone in the family if the Con Ed guy who comes once every six months still remembers his name but no one else's.
Now, after four drinks, one stolen car ride, the last ten minutes of Collateral (which is a shite movie in my opinion) and some overtly sexual Instant Message banter with the ex-boyfriend, I write this entry while my body sits sadly bloated from last night's excessive drinking and the four times I woke up to rehydrate myself with water, orange juice, and Grape Capri Sun.
Why did I feel the sudden urge to write? God only knows. Maybe I'm testing whether or not I can grow accustomed to productivity while drunk (or else I'll end up an unemployed alcoholic as opposed to my dream of becoming a successful alcoholic). Maybe I'm just that bored. Maybe I just don't want to break the cycle and keep posting consistently. Whatever it is, I'm fucking hungry now.
-L
This morning, I awoke at 7 AM to the sound of my mother's shrill voice screaming for me to sit on the couch and wait for the guy from Con Edison to come and check the meter and asking why the house stinks of alcohol as soon as I come home. I settled into an uncomfortable half-sleep on the couch while Dog licked my feet and Katie Couric babbled some nonsense on the television. I was jolted awake when the mailman came at ten, resulting in Dog's maniacal barking. Awake again at 2 PM when the man from Con Edison finally came, greeted Dog by name, gave him a pat, and regarded me with a dismissive wave of his hand. Dog is definitely more popular than anyone in the family if the Con Ed guy who comes once every six months still remembers his name but no one else's.
Now, after four drinks, one stolen car ride, the last ten minutes of Collateral (which is a shite movie in my opinion) and some overtly sexual Instant Message banter with the ex-boyfriend, I write this entry while my body sits sadly bloated from last night's excessive drinking and the four times I woke up to rehydrate myself with water, orange juice, and Grape Capri Sun.
Why did I feel the sudden urge to write? God only knows. Maybe I'm testing whether or not I can grow accustomed to productivity while drunk (or else I'll end up an unemployed alcoholic as opposed to my dream of becoming a successful alcoholic). Maybe I'm just that bored. Maybe I just don't want to break the cycle and keep posting consistently. Whatever it is, I'm fucking hungry now.
-L
posted by CEO of the World at 3:29 AM
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