eddie and the cruisers
I been drinking more. People I haven’t seen in a while, they’re surprised by this.
They’re like, ‘You started eating meat and now you’re drinking?”
“I wanna be like Mad Men.” I tell ‘em, “I gave up casual sex and I’ve taken up whiskey.”
“I hear ya.”
“Fucking all these chicks. It’s not what I want, I got this wake of girls in my past. It’s just not where I wanna go in my life. And you can’t get bottle of liquor pregnant, lord knows I’ve tried.”
ba-dump chingg.
Then I have another drink.
Escapism.
Maybe I’ll do yoga.
Andrea thinks I’m doing too many drugs. Hardly. I don’t do shit, I just write about it.
I was tellin’ Z, “I wish pills weren’t so bad for you, I’d pop them instead.”
Nothing like them opiates. I used to chow down vikes and do crossword puzzles, itching.
Leave my head for bit.
Honestly. I don’t even like the buzz of liquor. I like the act of drinking it more than the buzz itself. I post up at the bar, order my whiskey neat and sip it like a cowboy.
They’re selling an lifestyle.
I’m buying. I’m a cowboy, I’m a viking.
I wake up with rot gut. Drink more water I guess.
I was watching this doc on PBS about feelings and shit. They talk about love and anger and everything. I was liking it till they got to the depression part and then it turned into a fucking pharmaceutical commercial.
They broke it down like this, basically if you got that shit in your head, you’re fucked and you need to take a pill for it. Had Chevy Chase and the bitch who wrote Eat Pray Love hyping it up.
Eat Pray Love? Gimme a fucking break. I’ll stick with depression before I take a fucking pill. I’d rather do drugs to escape the weirdness in my head than to cure it.
Lately, I’ve been having nightmares. I woke up one night. I thought there was an earthquake, my bed was trembling. Checked it the next day on google. See what it measured. Nothing, nada. Wasn’t no earthquake, my shit was just shaking.
You ever get that sleep paralysis?
I was telllin Natasha about it, she says in Vietnamese it translates to “the ghost on your chest” or something like that. It’s fitting. They say your mind wakes up before your body does and it feels like an invisible force is pushing you into your bed.
Ain’t shit to do but go back to sleep
I been into Nam lately, the war. I don’t know much, but them communists didn’t seem so bad to me. The commies, they got rid of the French after all. French left ‘em wit baguettes and cognac.
When we was kids we used to play Nam instead of cowboys and Indians. Being post Nam babies and all. We’d run around the apartment complex with guns and sticks shooting shit up. Killing invisible soldiers. Maybe you get shot and die. I used to like dying, i found comfort in it. Lay down in the grass with your eyes closed and die.
