Monday, August 01, 2005

Don't Believe it? Just Watch Me.

The unthinkable is currently under consideration. This statement will require repeating, periodically, amongst the other sentences. It really is that serious.

Anyone who knows me, or has even met me (briefly, even), is fully aware that I am a huge proponent of drinking intoxicants. I don’t stand behind the juice just because I’m a drunkard, although that might be debatable on some level. I stand behind it because it is a fantastic out, a great barrier remover, a splendid way to go ahead and just give up all that worthless pretension for a few hours, and fine fuel for making all the mistakes in life (except the ones that endanger OTHERS’ lives) that really should be made. Besides, if you know what you like, then it tastes really damn good.

But just like everything else, there comes a point where it simply isn’t necessary. Gasp! I know. The unthinkable is currently under consideration.

But not permanently.

You see, my personality is one that lends itself to a truncated life, littered with all abandoned vices, all of which are fully capable of peace-ing-me-out of the post-womb. I’m not particularly interested in going out early, but if it happens, then so be it. However, it MUST happen amongst joyous circumstances. Like a failed parachute, while skydiving naked. Or hot sex in a tent on Kodiak island. Maybe a bad barrel ride down Niagara. Whatever.

What it CANNOT be is from a baseball bat, wielded by some douche balloon in some random public place who is simply sick and tired of hearing me talk a circus port-o-potty’s worth of shit because I’m drunk and my mind is boringly swimming through an oatmeal mush of general malaise. That’s where my sirens start to sound, and words like “abuse” and “temperament” get tossed around between my… selves. Myselves? You know what I mean.

In other words, when something destructive is no longer entertaining to me, then it needs to get curbed. If you aren't enjoying your state of obliteration, then you are, by definition, abusing it. Even worse, if you are irritated and cranky instead of laughing and telling lies about how cool you are, then you're wasting AND abusing it. And right now, I’m seriously on the cusp of getting my GROWN ass completely tore down for acting like a complete dick when I’m sauced. Sure, getting thrown out of bars is fun. It really is. But you don’t want your friends to be cheering on the bouncers and shit. You want them to get your back, even if you don’t deserve it.

BOUNCER: Hey, fucker, you peeing on the couch?
YOU [with only one eye open, leaning hard to your right]: Uh, maybe. That or someone else just peed on it. With my dick, apparently. Maybe.
BOUNCER: [lunging at you, slobbering] My MOM has to clean up that shit with a wet-dry vac! Ahhhh! I hate drunk people even though I work at a bar! OH MY FUCKING GOD I MUST CRUSH YOU!
[Lots of punching, some knocking down, laughing, crying, maybe a broken zipper in there]
YOUR FRIENDS: [option 1, preferred] Dude! Get the fuck off him, you're going to push his hemorrhoids out his ears!
[Mad Friend-defense ensues, you get hauled to safety, no one ever sits on that couch during subsequent visits]
YOUR FRIENDS: [option 2, not so preferred] What the...? Fucking Craig! Here, I'll help you drag him to that flight of cement stairs out back! He's been crying the last couple of hours and think I might like to watch him die at the hands of an angry bar-mob! Sweet!
[Bad Friend-defense ensues, you get kicked in the head by your out-of-town guest and your coworker steals your wallet before they roll you into the alley out back, where strangers join in by beating you with deck timbers and loose plumbing pipes]

Don't kid yourself, that could totally happen.

I'm extremely attached to my friends. For bad, and for worse. Even if they're tempted to get all Benedict Arnold on me. Maybe they’re just touchy every now and again, and that’s alright. We cannot be dependable ALL the time, right? But I CANNOT have my friends joining in a good ol’ ass-whooping on me, just because I have diarrhea of the mouth.

More importantly, I don’t need to be having diarrhea of the mouth. Not only does it sound completely disgusting, it is entirely preventable.

Cranky people are cranky for a reason. Every irritable lion you’ve ever met has a thorn in its paw. Problem is, no one has the time or patience to pull out anyone else’s thorns. So we’re on our own.

And in the process of finding my thorn, the most basic and necessary step for anyone with a personality as shifty as mine is to consider the unthinkable. Time for a break. Time to re-establish reasons to celebrate. Time to give myself something to cheer about when I’m plastered instead of “man, I need to do something with myself. I’m not designed for this shit. Blah-blah, poor little me, blah-fucking-blah.” Once this sort of inebriated self-consolation starts to repeat itself in front of live audiences, the speaker needs to put down the cup of impairment, stop crying about doing nothing, and go out and fuck some shit up.

Something that will bring back the jovial drunk that really, really wants to hang out. He really does. But there just hasn’t been good reason for him to drop by lately. So, dry up the double-old-fashioneds and hiballs until he returns with something to sing about. Otherwise, you just end up kickin’ it with a really surly fucker who spends WAY too much goddamn cash on booze. And food. And he tends to burn the seats with lit cigarettes or kick strangers at bus stops. It makes no sense to call that guy if you plan on going out, so if he’s guaranteed to show up every time you’re out, then just don’t bother with it.

Not until you’re sure he’s on vacation. ‘Cause that dude’s a total dick, and he’s going to get your face all kinds of broken.

So. The unthinkable is currently under consideration. And after typing this out, I believe I have come to the conclusion that I shall shelve my boozing until I get something worth boozing about. Like a finished book. Or a mastering of Chinese. Or a bronze sculpture of my naked body, wrestling Neptune, in front of any public library in Wisconsin.

Especially that last one. Jesus, that would be the best thing to happen to anyone, ever.

Of course, this means that I might be curiously absent from this blog thing for a bit. Not because I only blog when I booze, but because I might choose to do something more productive with my work hour.

Bygones. Boozegones. You get the idea.



Glitzy said...

Wow. Sounds like you had a major, major momement of epiphany. I'll be here when you decide to return.

Sara said...

HOLY CRAP! I don't even know what else to say.
Except this, at least you recognized this. Too damn many folks don't. And they just don't get it when people clap when they leave the bar and then tell their wives to come back later without them.
You'll be missed.

Girl With An Alibi said...

You will be missed. For sure. But your health and happiness come first. And besides I want to read that book when it comes out. I shall sacrifice daily blog pleasure for one outstanding Truecraig book to put on my bookshelf (but you gotta promise to autograph it.)

Truecraig said...

This isn't an AA moment or anything. I just don't want to waste good booze on bad moods. Know what I mean? So I intend to work on my "temperament" until it is more positive, and then I'll celebrate like a goddamn pirate. Until then, I plan on working toward putting a book on GWAA's shelf.

I'd be more than happy to sign the thing, if and when it ever reaches completion... That's rather flattering, I must say. Thanks for the support!

And I might post like, once a week. Just to continue the exercise. Word.

Drew said...

I know exactly what you mean about wasting good booze on bad moods. Good for you - just make sure you stop back once a week like you said to keep us entertained.

Lycan said...

George Carlin says some shit like this (I was reeeeeaally drunk when he was on Bravo with that effete fag James Lippton or some such) that we eventually outgrow our chemical vices.

In other words, at first it's high ratio of pleasure to pain and it alters our consciousness permanently but eventually teaches us everything we need and then the ratio slides to mostly pain, little pleasure...than you eventually have to make an effort of will to stop the now-destructive habit.

Whatever. Only quitters quit and quitting is for pussys. That's what I shouted at the TV but apparently that magic box is a one way communicator.

But we all need a break sometime so give your liver & kidneys some shore leave. Go heal and regenerate, come back later.

Anonymous said...

Yup, let your body purge itself. Get that book going, can't wait. Yeah, last drink I had was about a month ago. Even then I wasn't in a good mood nor with good company, so it wasn't enjoyable thus a waste of good alcohol. Damn.

brother nick

Truecraig said...

Drew: Yes, we must be as ONE with the booze, not as enemies. I plan on posting once a week, Fridays, tentatively. Depends on how crazy my weeks get (hopefully they’ll be mad-nuts-insane).

Lycan: Oh, I’ll be back. Bank on that. I just need to build a good reason for a grand re-entrance, that’s all. I recommend throwing shoes at the television. That’ll learn that fucker.

Brother Nick: You’ve seen me slip and slide through so many stages of life that this should come as no surprise to you. And yes, I will get that book going. That, and other projects that need to be worked on. So much to do, so little time… Must… Keep… Busy…


Debbie said...

But...but...I like the boozing stories. I guess you gotta do what you gotta do. However, I survive withouit your boozing stories as long as one day I get to see that sculpture in Wisconsin. You're right, that would be amazing

Impulsivecompulsive said...

So sorry. There's nothing worse than feeling the need to stop drinking for anything other than pregnancy or massive cirrhosis of the liver.
But you gotta do what you gotta do, and lets face it, the only thing worse than wasting a night out is those fuckers who waste an international vacation bitching about random shit. (Worked in a resort town for a while...if you wanna be miserable, save a couple grand and do it at home).
Best of luck to finding things to get drunk about!

Truecraig said...

Deb: Oh I'll probably still post boozing stories. Just not any new ones. I'm gettin' my FOCUS ON. Whatever that ends up meaning...

ImpComp: I will do everything in my power to locate and experience all things worthy of getting hammered after. This is my mission. My mantra. My M. fucking O. I shall prevail, damnit.