Rant until you nod off at the keyboard

I've been drinking this evening.
Though I don't feel inebriated.
I even took like 5 benadryl to boost.
I feel unusually confident and content.
Patient even.

And I wonder; should I be drinking every night?

It seems a foolish question.
Why would anyone want to put themselves through that.
Well, to function.


I seem to have retained my cognitive abilities.
Also, I feel not so god damned anxious.
That gets hard on the head after a while.
God I hope I don't get Parkinson's.

God twice in one paragraph, or stanza, I don't really know what to call this.
It doesn't Rhyme, no real plot to follow. Just a rant I guess.

Lots of great writers were hooked on the sauce.
I could probably deal with being a great writer, if I were so lucky.
I just feel lately like my confidence is shot.
A little cocaine, a few drinks, and I'm on top of the world.

But I crash hard.

I'll wake up feeling nervous already, like I've done something for which I should be ashamed.
I try and shake it off, hair of the dog is great, but often I ate the whole dog the night before.
So brush your teeth, make a strong coffee, and get to work. By the time I'm done, the alcohol is usually well out of my system, and I'm ready to go back to bed to hide for a while. Even when I remember the whole night, I still can't shake this feeling that I missed something or said something foolish or cruel while intoxicated. I even get so caught up in this guilt trip, that I'll act like a dick to anyone that interrupts my guilt. Thus, giving myself an actual reason to feel guilty.

But, if I could remain semi-buzzed until after work, then hit it hard, and get some side-work done, writing et cetera, then I could quit my day job if any of it worked out. But then what, stuck on the bottle, dependent on inebriant inspiration. What's worse, I'd potentially have the cash flow and free time to do myself some serious damage. Right-Brain sez; perhaps the reason I remain financially insecure is for this very reason. If I had more money, I'd do more drugs. If everything happens for a reason, that's a pretty good reason to keep me broke. My very life may dependent on my remaining strapped for cash.

It makes me smile, what a good justification for not trying; if I succeeded, I'd probably fuck myself up. Mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually, all of that. I can't trust myself with money. That's a little sad, but I can't really feel it. Thanks to the inebriants of the night.

Moderation still seems to be the way to go, for the time being.
But, as Josh Homme said in an interview,
"Moderation in everything, including moderation"

Now, the benadryl disconnects my thoughts, as though they are getting farther and farther apart. I can almost see the coil of rope at my feet as I reel in the next thought.

Events appear on the horizon to me now; the future a blur in front of me.
Blurry though it is, I see there is much of it yet. I cannot say this is real, but I can see no reason to be frightened by it either. A vague something is better than a definite nothing, at least for a while. This may be useful knowledge for future psychedelic excursions.

I am drawn deeper into myself now, the outside world is becoming less and less interesting. It is almost time for sleep.

Yawning now.

May random find you well.