Results (part 1?)

So, she came and got me, quite late at night.
We drove around for a while, talking, listening to music, smoking.
I could barely stand to look at her. She looked good. It hurts me that I didn't tell her.
I was like paralyzed with fear whenever I felt the sexual energy. But at the same time, I don't think it was a matter of blood for my brain being redirected elsewhere, just like overload. I'm like, ok, if I initiate something, where will it go? And I just don't know. And I stop. And I'm listening and looking and thinking, "What is she thinking? Does she want me to kiss her? She's talking right now. Am I sick with some infectious disease I haven't been diagnosed with?" That sort of thing. She checked the time, I said let's 'Head'er back" or something equally eloquent.

Still though, overall, hardly had my foot in my mouth the whole time. Very few awkward silences. Why couldn't I make a move? What's my block? It's like fucking deja vu; I get down to the beach in a car, and end up talking for an hour, and driving home. One time I initiated, and I achieved some measure of success. Why then, am I seemingly unable to do so again?

Was it because we drove around so long I started to sober up? Even though it was only a little, was it enough to shatter my confidence? I should have invited her in, I realize now that I'm on my second drink since returning. God, what an idiot. I can't even remember what we talked about. I remember a snippet about being religious when it's convenient. Fish tattoo. Fish in general. She had a pipe shaped like a fish. She was wearing glasses. Brown pants. It's like, I spaced out when I was thinking about saying something to lead us, well, together, at least temporarily. When I'd zone back in, I'd lose my nerve and mutter or something.

I don't think I pandered, which is always unappealing. I hope I wasn't too harsh either. Sometimes I can be a little quick on the draw with my comments. What is she thinking now? What does she think of me? Does she think I only like her when I'm drunk? That is not the case, but I can understand how one could think that. I am often much more truthful with regard to my inner thoughts when I am intoxicated. Thus, I am able to tell her how I feel a bit when I'm drunk, not because I'm only attracted to her drunk, but because I've only got the nerve to tell her drunk. Lame excuse or not, it's like fuck, I know I like her, why can't I tell her. I'm angry and laughing at the same time. It's like fuck Marc, you're so stupid sometimes.

So again, overall, it was fun. It was stressful, but that was exciting. I hope she isn't insulted by my not getting sexual. I would like to try this again, perhaps sober from the start, see how that works. Start earlier too, don't wait until 1:30am to get things rolling. More time to ease closer.

What have I learned; I am attracted to her, I still have difficult initiating, marijuana and light alcohol intoxication doesn't cut through the difficulty, I am still concerned that I might be unworthy or apparently unclean, and I AM able to spend time alone with her without it being too awkward. If we had been sitting side-by-side, I'd have put my arm around her, and that would have been a good start. I should try and watch that DVD with her tomorrow, that would certainly provide the right kind of circumstances.

I'll probably send her an offline message(hopefully she's offline) after this telling her that I thought she looked good. Chicks dig that sorta thing. Better late than never I figure. Well, again, time will tell on this one. Good luck.

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.

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.