The Secret Life of Punks

"Once again she shuddered with the evidence that time was not passing, as she had just admitted, but that it was turning in a circle. But even then she did not give resignation a chance."*

I have a very similar story for you, just like last weeks. Friday night I thought I'd stay in, maybe just have a few cups of wine with my friend Megan...and wound up at a keg party until who knows when because I barely remember walking home. I had a very confusing morning, so confusing in fact that it has now taken its place in my vocabulary along with Chaos Fuck Night to become Confusing Day, and it's how you feel when you don't remember exactly what you did and you don't want to think too hard because you know it wasn't good. Max saw me kissing someone. Details will be withheld.

Saturday, the punctuation of work, with its hangover and new title (see above) but I think I crawled into bed feeling pretty good about myself, since with the exception of Friday I'd been pretty well behaved all week. I started volunteering with the horses (and children? and children) and I got my 2nd job, so now I have a good reason to wake up early and a better reason to stay sober some of the time.

Sunday I got drunk in honor of the super bowl. I never liked football and I feel like I've somehow let down the little punk rock 17 year old inside me, but truthfully I've started to enjoy it, and everyone at the party seemed to enjoy it too. I watched the Saints win, doing poppers and eating fried gator, and I wasn't sure if it was exactly the best thing I could be doing at the time, but I did have all my friends with me, and I did have someone to walk home with. Nick and I are actually working on a comic about it together, so hopefully I'll have that to show off soon. Our comic is called the Secret Life of Punks, after the UK compilation, and it's probably going to be a lot like this blog, sorry world.

It's been a good week, but don't worry, it's Friday, and every thing's sure to start getting interesting soon.

Chaos fuck day / Chaos fuck nights

"Gentlemen...we are a very special breed...we possess a vast capacity for reasoning, understanding, and similar forms of mental activity...a keen perception of those connections between ideas which awaken amusement and pleasure, and an hysterical willingness to fuck up!"*

I could do this one or two ways, the first to tell you exactly what I did and how awful I felt in the morning (both emotionally and physically) or I could just expound upon my shortcomings and antics in a philosophical manner, lean dangerously close to sentimentality, and still feel uneasy about the whole thing. Listen, I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing. It was a long weekend.
Everything started ok, I was so ready for my Black Metal Master Cleanse that I set myself on the dangerous course of Drinking Binge 2010 (my first, this year). I got off work Friday, had a couple of beers, finished the Kingsolver book (it was great, seriously) but then around 10:30 I started drinking again, this time with real intent, and ended up doing a drug that I can't talk about on the off chance that my mom will ever, ever read this blog (yes it was that bad, or funny, depending on your perspective). I am sure that I had fun, and while I would never be embarrassed about dancing (on stage) to 2 Live Crew, I am about hitting on someone I've had a crush on for a couple weeks (still went home alone, don't worry Mom).
I ended up walking home with Adrien and Alexis (Anna said she heard us outside her house on 6th place, me in the street screaming about boys) and then getting into bed with my friend Max Parker. Max and I are just friends, so it seemed like the safest place to be at 4 in the morning, high on my secret drug and after drinking an orange Four Loco (gross). Max told me in the morning that I wouldn't leave the bed, let alone his room, and we stayed up talking until 7 in the morning about punk rock, which is actually really sweet, and made the rest of the night seem worth it. In fact, being so scared and freaked out seems worth it just to have my friends calm me down at the end of it, I don't know if that counts in a if-a-tree-doesn't-do-drugs-in-the-forest kind of way but it seemed nice to me in the morning. No apologies no hangovers, that ought to be my new motto, and I swear I'm halfway there.
Saturday I worked, stayed sober, and crawled into bed around 5 in the morning after getting stoned and reading several chapters of Moby Dick. Max and Robbie wanted to have Chaos Fuck Day, sponsored by the band Screaming Noise, but it had to wait for Sunday, when I really harnessed my self loathing and misanthropy into a singular idea, complete with catch phrase.
Sunday I started drinking by 4. I can safely say I was drunk by the time I went to Gator Beverage at 8, bought more beer (and poppers from next door), and went into my work to get shots. Our little troop of fuck ups went to Wayward Council, I think I dismissed the show in the interest of tuning out of reality, ate a weed cookie, and walked home (at some hour, unremembered by me).
Monday, I felt so hungover all day that I had to drink 3 beers at work just to make it until 2:30am, which is exactly when I passed out, fully clothed, before sleeping for 12 hours.

Ok, time to assess. I had fun with my friends (good) and also did a lot of weird drugs (also good, in my book) but I also drank so much that I barely remember it (that's the part I'm trying to avoid). I think what went wrong is that I got so fucked up on Friday, that I felt like I had something to hide and/or bury deep into the fantasy world of drinking and it sent me into some kind of problem spiral for the rest of the weekend, which has lasted until today. I ought to be editing this post over the next several hours so that I can connect more dots, and erase some inaccuracies. Chaos fuck day gives way to pathetic mornings, that's what we learned this weekend.
As of tomorrow, it ends. I somehow managed in the course of this weekend to get a 2nd job (stoked, and needed) and also to sign up for a volunteer program helping special needs children ride horses. My days will start filling up, and my nights will become less empty.

*from Maakies w/ Drinky Crow by Tony Millionaire