After some deliberation, I rolled some cigarettes, threw on my jacket,
brushed my teeth using Arm & Hammer baking soda, and grabbed my
Swiss Army shoulder bag before twisting open the deadbolt on my green
steel apartment door. My sneakers I was already wearing as an insulator
against the cool stone tiles lining my ground floor dwelling. I
estimated that this would be at least my eighteen-hundredth trip to the
booze-mart a couple of blocks away since moving into my downtown suite
in the summer of 2006.
Do I have a problem? Doesn't everyone? When the urge to drink begins swelling, I know it's simply a matter of time before I make that lonely trek across the hand-railed overpass to 109th & 99 Avenue commercial strip that houses my favorite East Indian family enterprise I lovingly refer to as "The Boozeistan".
Using almost half of the last of the birthday money I'd received from my dear Mother only two days prior, I purchased a magnum of Gato Negro Cabernet Savignon. Several hours earlier, I'd promised her on the telephone that I wouldn't be spending a nickel of it on liquor. Technically, wine isn't liquor, but I still couldn't believe my own audacity. I was compelled - nay, divinely propelled, to imbibe.
I'm drinking it now while I write this piece of self-deprecating drivel. My insurrectionary proclivities are too much for my ping-pong-ing brain to quell. My less than feeble convicting judgments whisper, "Do it Blake" in rasping harmonies. Am I a musician? Am I a writer? How long must I endure this poverty of stimuli? Will I be a capital-'I'- Internet addict forever?
Addiction. Who isn't addicted to at least ten different things? I can name ten substances / stimuli right now: booze, coffee / tea, Coronation Street, weed, bad girls, Internet, driving fast, the opine arts, nerdy chicks, and gourmet cuisine - about in that order. What sorts of things do you fancy, Dear Reader?
Understand that these lusts for life shouldn't necessarily pose a major threat to anyone's functionabili-googie in society. Lots of people smoke weed and watch Coronation Street religiously, I'm sure I am. The thing with me is, is that my folks pay for all my rent & utilities... so therefore, Mom & Dad play the trump card on any of my philosophical leanings.
Am I that bad? I just turned 35 and haven't had a steady job in almost three years. Sure I do odd jobs here and there: dog sit, sweep stairwells, babysit, teach music lessons, run little errands, play open stages... but I don't exactly make a bundle. I spend too much time playing computer games and cleaning up after my malatrose (I don't know if I just made that word up? French?) friends who like to pop-in unexpectedly. It's like a never-ending cycle. A timed, revolving door of eccentric n'aer-do-wells' egos? Where the hell have I been living this last half-decade? One thing's for certain... I've certainly been of course to lead a shortened life of astounding decadence if I keep chasing my own Dragon's spawn.
Making silly songs and embarrassssssssing video takes for Your Tube. Imagining myself as a mucho big-shot, upcoming producer. Spending hours, hacking away at social media sites. Learning the ol' html macro scripting. Learning a great deal about the micro and macro workings of social media. Editing video and audio and recreating the mouse-trap and all. Big money is all I'm after. That... and of course getting closer to Jehova.
Let's say The Blakemeister is visiting one of his friends who happens to be in a drunken-stupor. He's all alone- and this wasted-drunk devil calls you up for a little "face-to-face, let's-share-a-drink-" type chit chat at his place. Still... I never bully too hard... not ever, and try my musician's best to stick-up for my bros. I do my best not to let my ego supersede my observance of others' limits.
Well, Dear Reader, I just so happen to be an "edit-on-the-go" -type of person so there's a high likelihood that I would most definitely concede to my friend's boozing proposition whenever I'm feeling down-and-out, eh? Given the high likelihood that he's holding more booze than he can drink, it might just behoove me to charm him out of it. If this proverbial friend of mine happens to love my company as much as I love booze, then I'm drinking Scot-free tonight. Smokes too... hopefully!
Do I have a problem? Doesn't everyone? When the urge to drink begins swelling, I know it's simply a matter of time before I make that lonely trek across the hand-railed overpass to 109th & 99 Avenue commercial strip that houses my favorite East Indian family enterprise I lovingly refer to as "The Boozeistan".
Using almost half of the last of the birthday money I'd received from my dear Mother only two days prior, I purchased a magnum of Gato Negro Cabernet Savignon. Several hours earlier, I'd promised her on the telephone that I wouldn't be spending a nickel of it on liquor. Technically, wine isn't liquor, but I still couldn't believe my own audacity. I was compelled - nay, divinely propelled, to imbibe.
I'm drinking it now while I write this piece of self-deprecating drivel. My insurrectionary proclivities are too much for my ping-pong-ing brain to quell. My less than feeble convicting judgments whisper, "Do it Blake" in rasping harmonies. Am I a musician? Am I a writer? How long must I endure this poverty of stimuli? Will I be a capital-'I'- Internet addict forever?
Addiction. Who isn't addicted to at least ten different things? I can name ten substances / stimuli right now: booze, coffee / tea, Coronation Street, weed, bad girls, Internet, driving fast, the opine arts, nerdy chicks, and gourmet cuisine - about in that order. What sorts of things do you fancy, Dear Reader?
Understand that these lusts for life shouldn't necessarily pose a major threat to anyone's functionabili-googie in society. Lots of people smoke weed and watch Coronation Street religiously, I'm sure I am. The thing with me is, is that my folks pay for all my rent & utilities... so therefore, Mom & Dad play the trump card on any of my philosophical leanings.
Am I that bad? I just turned 35 and haven't had a steady job in almost three years. Sure I do odd jobs here and there: dog sit, sweep stairwells, babysit, teach music lessons, run little errands, play open stages... but I don't exactly make a bundle. I spend too much time playing computer games and cleaning up after my malatrose (I don't know if I just made that word up? French?) friends who like to pop-in unexpectedly. It's like a never-ending cycle. A timed, revolving door of eccentric n'aer-do-wells' egos? Where the hell have I been living this last half-decade? One thing's for certain... I've certainly been of course to lead a shortened life of astounding decadence if I keep chasing my own Dragon's spawn.
Making silly songs and embarrassssssssing video takes for Your Tube. Imagining myself as a mucho big-shot, upcoming producer. Spending hours, hacking away at social media sites. Learning the ol' html macro scripting. Learning a great deal about the micro and macro workings of social media. Editing video and audio and recreating the mouse-trap and all. Big money is all I'm after. That... and of course getting closer to Jehova.
Let's say The Blakemeister is visiting one of his friends who happens to be in a drunken-stupor. He's all alone- and this wasted-drunk devil calls you up for a little "face-to-face, let's-share-a-drink-" type chit chat at his place. Still... I never bully too hard... not ever, and try my musician's best to stick-up for my bros. I do my best not to let my ego supersede my observance of others' limits.
Well, Dear Reader, I just so happen to be an "edit-on-the-go" -type of person so there's a high likelihood that I would most definitely concede to my friend's boozing proposition whenever I'm feeling down-and-out, eh? Given the high likelihood that he's holding more booze than he can drink, it might just behoove me to charm him out of it. If this proverbial friend of mine happens to love my company as much as I love booze, then I'm drinking Scot-free tonight. Smokes too... hopefully!
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