Drink Train

I decided to write this post as I walked home from my car. It as to be titled "drunk train" and was to be a drunken train of thought. The first line was to be, "this post find me wearing a blue leisure suit and a fake afro". I am no lnoger wearging these. But I'm still quite drunk.

So a few of you probably know that my recent lack of posting has been the result of my optimistic world-view being shattered by the death of my best friend. A few more of you met Curtis at the New Years bash, and probably immediately realized that you wre in the presence of someone who was probably too cool for his own good. This was the type of person that would seek out a bottle of maker's mark for several quarter hours and upon finding it, take a knee and pay tribute to hsi grail with a deep-souled chug. Not that this is a perfectly representative curtis moment, but merely the strongest memory I have of him from the night. Unfortunately, these memories are about all thats left of him out here, so there ya go. He really wanted to find that mekers bottle, and whn he did, had a moment of pure, untarnished joy that i haven't know since.

The suit isn't even really mine. It's more Lasse's. Sometimes I feel bad for having obtained it through les that pure means, but I love it so much, and believe that universal utility is a profoud meaning of life, so it's not a horrible thing that the suit passed into somebody's hands who appreciated it, hopefully more.

I've always kind of felt like nothjing bad has ever really happened to me. Sure, I've suffered a bit, but suffering isn't a bad thing, all told. Everything that has hurt,has hurt for a reason. I've learned from it, and in retrospect, found beauty in the pain. I spent a night in jail while on acid, which many would call horrible, but I truly believe was among the best things to 3ever happen to me. I couldn't name a single example of a "bad" thing to happen to me. There was always a plus side, which out-weighed the mere loss of comfort. I'm not sure this is true anymore. It jstu fuckin sucks and that's it. I want to be like "this is alright, I've learned from it, I have more spiritual guidance, I have a stronger sense of the finitude of life, I shall seize the day from now on, I shall be a better person" but it just fuckin sucks. and that's it

I don't know what to do with myself most of the time. Shedding tears is no longer the right idea. Moving on certainly isn't the anser. I jsut wake up and just go through a general suckiness. Then I'll drink and occasionally have a break from it, or rationalize it with written words. Neither is right, neither really helps. It jsut fuckin sucks.

So here I am. I had a fun night with Kate. I wore the leisure suit that always makes me feel cool, and I had a few moments of being one with the music, dancing without self-conscousness, which is rare. I somehow obtained a black afro wig from the floor, and completed the suit thusly. Kate's friends want to have sex with me. awesome.

I don't know. I probably shouldn't even post this, because it's depressing without any goal orientation. But that's me right now, so I'm posting it anyways. Sometimes there's no goal. This is not a cry for help, or the talking cure. It's just a drunk kid writing because he doesnt know what else to do with himself right now.