How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid."*
I woke up early today, before noon, to ride the Hawthorne trail and enjoy wearing shorts (sunshine, thank god, finally). Robbie asked me how my blog was doing and I felt a little uneasy. That's right. I'm suppose to be documenting everything, and I forgot a little. It's really just the same, I went a day or two drinking within my limit and then Friday I blew it way off field, stayed up until 5am so drunk I couldn't see and then slowly transitioned into feeling weird and then just bad. Saturday was practically ruined on a hangover and Sunday I stayed out too late again and watched two of my friends try to fight each other. Or maybe that was Monday. Either way, the same up and down issue I've been having. So yesterday I made a decision to just steel myself against drinking. I have to stay sober and be alone no matter how difficult it seems. It does seem difficult, let me assure you. I've been reading Moby Dick, the Good Thief, and 20 Love Poems and a Song of Despair the past few nights but being sober leaves me with a kind of restlessness I'm not accustomed to. Easily mistaken for loneliness, it's the realization that thing's aren't going to change. I have to stay in my room at 3am, and it doesn't matter if I'm awake, alone, and thinking about how much of a loser I am (or nuclear holocaust, or Discharge records, or books I'd like to write, or boys I'll never meet again), I have to deal with it and go to sleep anyway. When I'm really drunk, everything is funny when I'm alone at night. I can go to sleep without feeling restless, I can go to sleep without feeling anything at all.
Instead, I'm going to try to spend more time alone. I'll ride my bike everyday if I have to. I'll finish Moby Dick. I'll write more (actually write, not just blog, sorry). I'll act on all the sickening feelings and restless impulses until I have something more to show for myself than a hangover. Eh, we'll see.
*Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair
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