When the Hell is it?

I like my morning time. I wouldn’t give away my coffee and apple time for anything. Not a job, not a person, not a dog, and definitely not a fish. I got so high and fell asleep last night. I ate four 750’s and I got high as hell. I don’t really have a continuous stream of thought right now and nothing will really coalesce into a solid piece of thought-matter.

That all happened. I’m no liar. In fact, I’m quite consistent. This time, my yesterday night consisted of copious amounts of alcohol being forced down my gullet by an invisible hand with a grip like a gorilla foot. Lucky for me, Chernobyl had some speed he was willing to share, as long as I had five bucks – I did. We made the trade, he went to work, I ate the speed. After a greasy shit, some compatriots and I headed to the liquor store for the first round of legal purchases. Cigarettes, munchies, and a four-pack of high octane IPA were what we walked out with. We shared amicable good-byes and that was that. I had no idea I’d walk into that store two more times in states of steadily deepening madness.

The second time was a regularly scheduled visit after the primary locale of New Years drug abuse had been ridden out to its end. Kabel and I had his tequila – which I had no idea you could write yourself a prescription for. Then we split up and after I dropped a few items off to a few interested parties, I required whiskey. I was well aware you could write yourself a prescription for that. Paul arrived a few minutes prior and was in a state comparable to a distraught mother of a good-for-nothing after finding a syringe in the underwear drawer. I wrote him a prescription for whiskey as well and conscripted him for the return journey. We made it. I was drunk, the clerk wasn’t, we both understood the situation. I mumbled some pleasantries, not at all as erudite as before, he gave me a fonzi-esque gesture. We agreed to not hang out until the next year.

The whiskey went down smooth as ever. All the boys came home for more planned activities, in contrast to our usual impromptu chemical debauchery. We drank – the air was thick with smoke and merriment. As easily as we united, we broke off into factions. Some to articulate emotions chemically excavated from their tartarus of sobriety, some to see a band, some to study the floor – which, as it turns out, is as interesting as you are drunk. Oh world, how you surprise.

We slaughtered the phalanx of substances set before us. We drank the blood of every bottle and burned the flesh of the sinsemillian, we crushed the non-believers into dust and insufflated them properly, we promised to be better people and pointed out the hypocrisy of a moral system based Roman calendars and brain-manipulation. We’re the same us as we ever were but it feels good to know we can change.

We’re relative. It was New Years. Time isn’t real. See you tomorrow, or next year.



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