sittingcrosspunchandplain [i. AHWoSG]

[The Inebriate] (while drunk at around 4 AM)

I am tired.
I am true of heart!

Dave Eggers has it straight out.

45 minutes ago I was flat on my back in Pulaski Park, glaring at the stars. Normally any adjective would easily take the place of glancing, but drunk as shit and lying my ass off about being as drunk as shit to earn my selfdom sticks me with consequences such as lack of objectivity when it comes to adjectives. As such: flat on my back in Pulaski Park.

There are a lot of fucking stars in the sky. The next part, leading from

I am true of heart!

is a bit tricker.

This was uncalled for.

It's true. It was, is and will be. The fact holds: I am of a mood. THIS WAS UNCALLED FOR! I don't know else to express this (take two). An hour ago I sat post-Pulaski in the Wolski parking lot, unable to depart and unwilling to decry. The fact that I extricated myself and---

Drink. Drank. Drunk.

The estimated life on any of this blog is nil. I am going to go watch THE PRINCESS BRIDE, possibly followed by LABYRITNH. Out!



[The Interim] (while hungover at about 9 AM)

Updating. Be patient.

I think I got drunk and read 40 pages or so of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius last night. The blog title suggests this. My previous blog full of quotes from the book suggests this further.

Plus, I woke up with book in hand and a bookmark in it.

Hmm... clues.



[Alternate subject titles include the following:]

Inconceivable!
How We are Satiated (part 2)
Mona is a whore and I'll pick whatever subject I want. (This last was too similar to Romano is a tool and, thus, rejected, passed over and discarded)
Rodents of Unusual Size? I Don't Think They Exist.
and, lastly
My Beard, Reviewed (which was the last McSweeny's entry to cross my path. Good stuff)




[The Implicit] (circa now)

Reading is not a good thing to do while drunk. Chances are you're not going to remember much of it and you'll have mucked everything up. Regardless, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius still holds as one of (and currently the) greatest books I've ever read, down to the copyright information which includes "Random House is owned in toto by an absolutely huge German company called Bertelsmann A.G. which owns too many things to count or track. That said, no matter how big such companies are, and how many things they own, or how much money they make or control, their influence over the daily lives and hearts of individuals, and thus, like 99 percent of what is done by official people in cities like Washington, or Moscow, or Sao Paulo or Auckland, their effect on the short, fraught lives of human beings who limp around and sleep iand dream of flying through bloodstreams, who love the smell of rubber cement and think of space travel while having intercourse, is very very small, and so hardly worth worrying about." and I also found I woke up with a strong desire to start my own quarterly publication which may (or may not) be called Things We Shout at the Ground, in no Particular Order. I thought about the implications and irrationality of the whole thing while consuming 4 12oz glasses of water to deal with my hangover, and found the roadblocks more difficult to track down than I would have imagined, what with graphic design-graduate relatives/roommates and two sets of relatives that own printing businesses. Either way, give me a few hours and all will be forgot.

Posting anything whilst drunk is also a tricky matter, as previously evidenced, but I am always a little curious to see what shit my drunk self wants to give my non-drunk self. I did once write a list of things that I feasibly could have done drunk but didn't do, with the intent to scare the shit out of myself in the morning. My drunk self thought it would be hilarious. In retrospect, it kind of is. The day of when I made my first apologetic phone call and got a response of What the hell are you talking about? it was less so. I was also a little surpised to see that this morning I drunkenly used the word decry, which I had to look up to find meant open denunciation. Huh. When I left the Red Room last night I was a little surprised to look back and see that with the empty drinks there wasn't much open room left on the table, and that's considering several empty glasses that were carried back to the bar before ordering more. I hit up my buddy Tucker's new place for a while and drank some more, then realized I didn't want to crash there but was in no condition to crash elsewhere. Hence: I passed off the disguise of sudden soberness and hung out in the park and my car until enough time had passed that my head was clear.

A quick question: Does anyone know what the hell is wrong with Fred Savage's character in The Princess Bride? Is he just mildly sick or is he slowly being eaten alive by some debilitating virus? Off that, and more relevant, I found out that my good friend's dad who, last I had heard, was almost demolished by cancer, is now in the free and clear 100 percent. It was a relief and it was a topic I had worried of broaching but now I'm glad I did. I think it's important to take counsel and council of your friends, and mine repeatedly and thoroughly bestow upon me something that I find I inherently lack: Perspective.

And sometimes, also, alcohol. I am not one to complain. I think I'm going to go get me some Quiznos, and I also think I'm out for the first portion of Pitcher N Pizza tonight. I'm not out for the night, just for one of those previous P's. Hint: I'm never out on the former.