Not tonight. Not tonight.

This beer makes me want to sniff a big ole rail of E. Grind up a colourful pill into a few neat lines. Sniffing them sometimes an hour apart, sometimes two in a row. Chugging beer to wash the taste from the back of my throat. Smoke cigarettes always. Ugh, feel the back of your throat? That means it's time for another. Especially with all that smoke-phlegm. Man, tomorrow is gonna be rough. Ahh well, with any luck, I'll sleep right through it. Listen to music, play cards, make plans, start things, leave them unfinished to discover tomorrow. Write and rewrite the first sentence of a post that ends up blank for an hour or so. Bob your head with the music. Smile. You feel it. You are alive. You think, fuck, I get high on life too, it just takes me more effort to concentrate. Your brain is quiet, you wonder, am I blacked out already? Will I remember this? Will I wake up in a panic, all because I don't remember brushing my teeth and turning off the tv? I imagine inappropriate phone calls, unnecessary cruelty, or worse. When really, I probably hurt my knee, wretch for a bit, then go to bed. But when you wake up in a fog, you don't know what happened, so it's probably best to be cautious. High velocity information assimilation. Too bad for retention, the info is encoded state-dependent like. Talk too much, make too big a deal about too many things. Remember too much, demand too much accuracy. Perfection perfection.

That's what this beer tastes like.

Discretion discretion.
Associating alcohol with stimulants is a hard association to recode.