i didn’t think i was drunk yesterday, although i began with chilean sauvignon blanc in viktoria park (at 1 p.m.) and concluded with rum & coke around 4 a.m.
and somewhere in the middle there was the search for a non-existent classical concert in moabit, beer & lime & thai food & bourbon, brandnameless cigarettes that refused to roll themselves…
when i woke up i felt like every rotting jack-o-lantern that’s ever been punted in the face, ray guy-style.
“drinking is war” ~ hemingway
my shirt was sopping wet with sweated-out booze. my whole shirt. even the sleeves.
and somewhere in berlin there’s a tree with my bike chained to it. must. find. tree.
i just found out today, an old friend of mine (g.c.) from south florida smashed his jeep into something in the median, then hit a police car. the passenger in his jeep (a 26 year old girl) was killed, and he got out with just some cuts and bruises. he was drunk, and had xanax with him. this is a big part of the reason i will live in a big city with public transportation for the rest of my life. i have driven drunk literally 1000s of times, never got a d.u.i., only got pulled over once & somehow weaseled out of it. still don’t know how. but it was only a matter of time for me, just like it was only a matter of time for him. he’s facing 2 life sentences. he’s 43. he’ll probably live another 43 years, behind the iron.
“be as cautious as he may, man can never foresee the danger that
may at any hour befall him.”~ horace
… and this goes for the 26 year old, and her family too.
“men, however fortune may smile upon them, could never be said to be happy till they had been seen to pass over the last day of their lives.” ~ solon.
… many of the ancients have jumped on this sentiment:
“we should all look forward to our last day: no one can be called
happy till he is dead and buried.” ~ ovid
and when i first met g.c., it was 1998 and we were all in a house, in boca raton, smoking pot and snorting klonopin off a ceramic plate. he brought out some of his artwork & drawings which i was amazed by. i said, “man, you should pursue this… get it out there…” “i know, i know,” he said. “i should, but i’m an asshole.” i never saw any of his other artwork after that, except for a tattoo. he tattooed a mouse eating a piece of cheese attached to a string on a friend’s forearm. i have a feeling he’s gonna be doing a lot of tattoos behind the iron. and as far as his other artwork is concerned, i have a feeling he’s gonna have plenty of time not to be an asshole.