October 12th ( The start of it all. )

October 25, 2010 § Leave a comment


Orginally written October 12th

-“If I don’t come back, I mean, if I get side tracked, it’s only because I wanted to.”

Train Underwater – Bright Eyes

Opening lines are underrated, they can devastate, they can articulate, but when the blurry eyed fatigue of three days being awake starts to set in then you pretty much take whatever you can get. I think I was somewhere on 42nd. If New York City wasn’t the city that never sleeps then it would be just waking up. I hadn’t been there long; I had bombed it down from upstate the evening before. The fact I hadn’t even been in the City for 12 hours didn’t stop me from walking around like I had lived there for all 22 years. It didn’t stop me from looking at my shoes as I hurriedly walked past famous landmarks like I had somewhere to be. It didn’t stop me from loathing tourists. I was being propped up caffeine and that shameless bravado that comes with being young. I had broken through another drinker’s wall. I was on the other end of the slow crawl that is a whiskey hangover. The sort of hangover that leaves you not just with physical deadweight of organ pain, but also with the crippling mental hangover and burden of memory loss, setting your mind racing with all the possibilities of things that you could have done made ever worse by the bits that you do remember. There is only one solution for moments of melodrama and memory lapse such as these and that solution is a colleague so that any memories can be gathered to make sense. While I was sure I had started the nights with one, he must have trailed off on a better offer.

So one self indulgent stream of semi consciousness later and I was still alone in the City. health I had recently developed an attraction to girls who were insane. Well, maybe insane is the wrong word, more like wild. Hard to figure out, no, impossible to predict or understand. They were the taste I had developed and they made my heart go faster. To me normal had always been the pinnacle of boring. Perhaps a taste in predictable Christian girls would have not let seen me with a three day hangover so far from home.

I stayed up most of the night writing a shit standard of writing. That’s not a substitute for the word “stuff” I read some of the writing back, unfortunately a good habit that I’m yet to fall into, and it was extraordinary shit, but you should know, your reading it.

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