PART I
I woke slowly, my eyes adjusting to the dullness of the sun trickling through my broken lounge room blinds. That moment of confusion seemed to pass much slower than usual as I questioned where I was and pondered why my mouth tasted like nuclear waste. I lifted my head and glanced around at the chaos of the room. Among the rubbish (nearly all of which consisting of empty beer bottles) I pieced together the embarrassingly simple truth of where I was. I was at home.
That's what I called it. The box where i dwell on this earth waiting to die. It had been years now since I had really lost the will to stop myself from doing any number of self-destructive activities. What was really the point? Being sober just bored me so much I felt the only escape from my soul relentlessly begging me to stop and do something proactive was to drown its feeble cries. Then there was also my 9-to-5 that I felt inescapable from, like spiraling a black hole. It payed my habits and paradoxically fueled my pain. We were codependent.
This particular morning however, I did not have to visit my second box out in the real world. Today, i could spend several hours developing deep anxiety about having to return to my employers midst until the fear was so great, i would crack open a fresh bottle of jagermeister and do drinking stunts alone by my cheap strobe light i found on eBay. Ahhh the joys of being an over achieving alcoholic.
I got up slowly from the couch, feeling my head spin ever so slightly as it always did after these lone benders. A shower was what I needed, that would get me right to face the world. After ten minutes of sitting on the porcelain floor with the borderline boiling liquid seeping down my body, I decided it was time to do it. To address some of this shit inside of me that always won in the end. Every few weeks I would try and every time i failed, it got longer between attempts. Maybe i would just finish the beer in the fridge and then i could stop for a week?
I was pondering this when my mobile telephone rang obnoxiously. This was not a trivial Facebook notification informing me some asshole liked my hate status from my blind drunk brain last night, nor was it a message from my boss informing me that i was actually meant to work today and I had simply forgotten today was Wednesday not Thursday. This was a phone call from one of the few actual friends I had remaining. Joel Lavings. So, intrigued, i picked up the vibrating plastic object and pressed the green light on the screen.
"Hello," I said sheepishly, realizing my voice had yet been used today.
"Hey man, what ya doin?" Joel's enthusiastic voice made me want to punch him.
"Uhhh... Just had a shower and was about to have my morning coffee and smoke," I answered.
"You mean afternoon right? You do realize its like fuckin' 3 pm you daft cunt!" Joel was one of those close friends that no matter how vulgar, vile and offensive they were, you just brush it off like froth on a beer.
"Shit, really?" I said, taking the phone down from my head to inspect the time. He was right. Usually, my somewhat alcohol damaged brain is incapable of sleeping very late in the day and this was a real moment for me. An amazing feat that I haven't been able to do since high school!
"Yeah dickhead," I heard his voice from the phone i still hadn't returned to my head as i was busily having a silent celebration of sorts. I felt like i dickhead immediately after that.
"Well fuck, I'm up. Whats the go?" I said.
"Well, it's Thursday night bro. Lets go out to Trinity and slay some sluts!" He exclaimed with excitement. I was excited somewhat more that i did indeed have the day right. Joel wanted me to go to Trinity, one of the only local pubs worth going to in the small town of Scottsdale. It usually always sucked but we didn't have much choice and every single time we would think to ourselves 'Tonight will be different' but it rarely was.
"Ummm... I think I work early..." I paused "But fuck, kicks the shit out of sitting round here all day. I'll get ready. Head round when you want."
"Aight, catchya cunt," he replied, and the phone fell silent. I was shattered that my attempt at sobriety had already been thwarted. There was always next time though. I lived only around the block from Trinity so my house was the ideal meeting point. I would have to clean the pad just in case either one of us actually managed to return home with something that resembled a woman. That seldom happened however. The only thing i ever returned with was a lighter wallet, a shit load less brain cells and almost always less dignity. Joel didn't get much either, but he was so persistent he never spent long between sexual interactions. For every twenty times maybe he would come home with someone. For me, maybe every fifty. Though i didn't complain. I had no real skills or anything that would remotely interest a woman. I could juggle VERY averagely and if you got me really drunk, you might get to see my attempts at ollying a skateboard. I was very average and kept to myself most of the time in front of the television trying to figure out exactly how I ended up in this rut. More to the point, how to get out of it.
I went to my closet and selected denim jeans and a deep red T-Shirt, not really giving it to much thought as i slapped it all on. I wasn't on the prowl tonight. The thought of interacting with a woman right now scared the fucking shit out of me. Like her very gaze could pierce the crippling mess inside of my soul. There was no way i wanted anyone to see the ugliness in there and tonight, i didn't feel confident enough to dismiss this ridiculous thought.
Joel let himself in.
"You look like a dickhead," he said affectionately as he brushed my shoulders and looked me up and down like a mother does for her son. I pushed his arms away.
"Fuck off, i'm ready. Lets ditch this Popsicle stand and go find some adventures," I said in a monotone voice, just balancing on a knifes edge between sarcasm and enthusiasm. I was good at acting out bits and pieces of the shit that i knew from this world. How to be a friend, soccer coach, surfer, cunt, electrician ect. I hadn't picked what i was tonight. My mixed emotions about the triumph of sleeping in and my sobriety vowel i failed in five minutes just had my personality sitting as a stagnant mess.
But tonight would at least be interesting. The alcohol and brisk cold air of the inner city would awaken the party animal inside and i would accelerate into something else entirely. Something i hated being less. Something that had more life in it than I did. Something that knew what it wanted...
I woke slowly, my eyes adjusting to the dullness of the sun trickling through my broken lounge room blinds. That moment of confusion seemed to pass much slower than usual as I questioned where I was and pondered why my mouth tasted like nuclear waste. I lifted my head and glanced around at the chaos of the room. Among the rubbish (nearly all of which consisting of empty beer bottles) I pieced together the embarrassingly simple truth of where I was. I was at home.
That's what I called it. The box where i dwell on this earth waiting to die. It had been years now since I had really lost the will to stop myself from doing any number of self-destructive activities. What was really the point? Being sober just bored me so much I felt the only escape from my soul relentlessly begging me to stop and do something proactive was to drown its feeble cries. Then there was also my 9-to-5 that I felt inescapable from, like spiraling a black hole. It payed my habits and paradoxically fueled my pain. We were codependent.
This particular morning however, I did not have to visit my second box out in the real world. Today, i could spend several hours developing deep anxiety about having to return to my employers midst until the fear was so great, i would crack open a fresh bottle of jagermeister and do drinking stunts alone by my cheap strobe light i found on eBay. Ahhh the joys of being an over achieving alcoholic.
I got up slowly from the couch, feeling my head spin ever so slightly as it always did after these lone benders. A shower was what I needed, that would get me right to face the world. After ten minutes of sitting on the porcelain floor with the borderline boiling liquid seeping down my body, I decided it was time to do it. To address some of this shit inside of me that always won in the end. Every few weeks I would try and every time i failed, it got longer between attempts. Maybe i would just finish the beer in the fridge and then i could stop for a week?
I was pondering this when my mobile telephone rang obnoxiously. This was not a trivial Facebook notification informing me some asshole liked my hate status from my blind drunk brain last night, nor was it a message from my boss informing me that i was actually meant to work today and I had simply forgotten today was Wednesday not Thursday. This was a phone call from one of the few actual friends I had remaining. Joel Lavings. So, intrigued, i picked up the vibrating plastic object and pressed the green light on the screen.
"Hello," I said sheepishly, realizing my voice had yet been used today.
"Hey man, what ya doin?" Joel's enthusiastic voice made me want to punch him.
"Uhhh... Just had a shower and was about to have my morning coffee and smoke," I answered.
"You mean afternoon right? You do realize its like fuckin' 3 pm you daft cunt!" Joel was one of those close friends that no matter how vulgar, vile and offensive they were, you just brush it off like froth on a beer.
"Shit, really?" I said, taking the phone down from my head to inspect the time. He was right. Usually, my somewhat alcohol damaged brain is incapable of sleeping very late in the day and this was a real moment for me. An amazing feat that I haven't been able to do since high school!
"Yeah dickhead," I heard his voice from the phone i still hadn't returned to my head as i was busily having a silent celebration of sorts. I felt like i dickhead immediately after that.
"Well fuck, I'm up. Whats the go?" I said.
"Well, it's Thursday night bro. Lets go out to Trinity and slay some sluts!" He exclaimed with excitement. I was excited somewhat more that i did indeed have the day right. Joel wanted me to go to Trinity, one of the only local pubs worth going to in the small town of Scottsdale. It usually always sucked but we didn't have much choice and every single time we would think to ourselves 'Tonight will be different' but it rarely was.
"Ummm... I think I work early..." I paused "But fuck, kicks the shit out of sitting round here all day. I'll get ready. Head round when you want."
"Aight, catchya cunt," he replied, and the phone fell silent. I was shattered that my attempt at sobriety had already been thwarted. There was always next time though. I lived only around the block from Trinity so my house was the ideal meeting point. I would have to clean the pad just in case either one of us actually managed to return home with something that resembled a woman. That seldom happened however. The only thing i ever returned with was a lighter wallet, a shit load less brain cells and almost always less dignity. Joel didn't get much either, but he was so persistent he never spent long between sexual interactions. For every twenty times maybe he would come home with someone. For me, maybe every fifty. Though i didn't complain. I had no real skills or anything that would remotely interest a woman. I could juggle VERY averagely and if you got me really drunk, you might get to see my attempts at ollying a skateboard. I was very average and kept to myself most of the time in front of the television trying to figure out exactly how I ended up in this rut. More to the point, how to get out of it.
I went to my closet and selected denim jeans and a deep red T-Shirt, not really giving it to much thought as i slapped it all on. I wasn't on the prowl tonight. The thought of interacting with a woman right now scared the fucking shit out of me. Like her very gaze could pierce the crippling mess inside of my soul. There was no way i wanted anyone to see the ugliness in there and tonight, i didn't feel confident enough to dismiss this ridiculous thought.
Joel let himself in.
"You look like a dickhead," he said affectionately as he brushed my shoulders and looked me up and down like a mother does for her son. I pushed his arms away.
"Fuck off, i'm ready. Lets ditch this Popsicle stand and go find some adventures," I said in a monotone voice, just balancing on a knifes edge between sarcasm and enthusiasm. I was good at acting out bits and pieces of the shit that i knew from this world. How to be a friend, soccer coach, surfer, cunt, electrician ect. I hadn't picked what i was tonight. My mixed emotions about the triumph of sleeping in and my sobriety vowel i failed in five minutes just had my personality sitting as a stagnant mess.
But tonight would at least be interesting. The alcohol and brisk cold air of the inner city would awaken the party animal inside and i would accelerate into something else entirely. Something i hated being less. Something that had more life in it than I did. Something that knew what it wanted...
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