An unnecessarily public apology...
Penemue 
I had a thought in my head tonight. I had an idea. I wanted to write. I even knew what it was that I wanted to write. After the first beer I still knew what I wanted to write. After the third, and after the fifth, I still knew. After the seventh it was starting to get harder to focus, but I still had a thought. Then I found the whiskey.
It didn’t become another forgotten idea in another forgotten life at that point. I still kept the idea floating in my brain. I even managed to mention it to Kakistocrat over the phone. I didn’t tell her what the idea was, merely that I had one. Something tells me that she didn’t pay any mind to the statement. And Dredis couldn’t find me right then, though I watched him walk right by.
The idea hadn’t left my head yet. I knew what I wanted to write, no, what I was going to write. It burned in my brain, in the back of every thought. This I Would Write Down.
I was at Dredis’ house, enjoying my beers with friends and knowing that I would come back to my current bed and write. I was going to leave early even. A true rarity for me, that I would leave before the party was over. My friends didn’t want me to leave so early, but I fought them. I argued that I had intentions. I had plans. Dredis should understand! Not only is he a writer, but he is part of the same project as me!
None of that mattered in their eyes. Granted, some did accept and accede, for that is the personality of those. But the fact remains that I was beginning to lose focus. I was being bribed into staying. And that, my darlings, is where the Jack comes back into the picture.
Dredis promised it to me, and there was nothing I could say at that point. I had stated my case as clear as I could. There simply wasn’t enough beer left to make sure that I would reach the intoxication level I desired. There was a very limited amount of time left for me to buy more. I was going to say goodbye and walk back to my house. Then I could buy more alcohol and write. Then I could fulfill my idea.
Dredis knew my weakness for certain whiskeys, particularly Old Number 7. He dangled that idea in front of me, and I knew that I couldn’t resist. He played the swift card, and I had no choice but to fold.
So I acceded to the party, and to continuing on with the rest. I opened another beer, and that’s when my phone rang. Kakistocrat was calling, and I had to answer; so I opened my phone, said hello, and walked outside.
Our conversation took longer than either of us predicted. Over an hour actually. It was throughout this that I watched Dredis walk back and forth repeatedly, discombobulated, and misdirected. He never seemed to realize that I was in the back yard, not the side or front.
When the phone call ended I returned to the party, for, as limited as it was, it was still my friends, and I enjoy their company. I walked in to find no party. The only one left was Dredis, asleep.
I grabbed a beer, and the Jack. I stole a jacket from his closet and braced myself for the walk home. I hate the walk home when I’m drinking. If it isn’t the walk to my next drink, it becomes the stumble home to my bed, or worse, the walk of shame. I finished the beer shortly after leaving and realized every step on the way that lay ahead of me.
A bottle of Jack in one pocket of a stolen jacket, and an unopened beer in the other, I continued on my trek, with a cigarette in my mouth. The grass burrs stuck to my leg, to be dealt with later, and the open road stretch that included the bridge over the freeway suddenly seemed like enemies. So I walked towards the market that I knew was open for more smokes and a burrito to dine on before I crashed, with a cigarette as my time line.
I let my mind wander and I found myself almost at the market, with very little left of the cigarette. The attendant was sweeping the parking lot, so I told him that I had these bottles, for suddenly my pockets seemed bulging and I was afraid he would call the cops. My police paranoia grew even worse when I couldn’t understand his broken-english response. I did buy my cigarettes though.
I walked out of the store and headed to my house without any incident, and so my earlier paranoia proved absurd. I came inside and sat down to write.
Unfortunately, now I cannot remember what I was going to write. Well, that isn’t entirely true. I do remember what, and I do remember why, but I cannot remember what my main point was. And I certainly cannot write it while this intoxicated.
Dredis, I will give you back your jacket next time I see you, and I owe you half a bottle of Jack.
Penemue on Jul 25, 2009 | tagged in Marinated (Altered States), Organic (Lifestyle), USDA Prime (Non-Fiction) 
Reader Comments (10)
So that's what happened to you! Sorry about being a part of the derailment of your artistic endeavor. But hey, we ended up with this delicious account of the evening. Gotta stand for something!
yeah, words to not read while hungover the next day.
how unsurprising.
Let's See...
Public Intoxication, Open Container...reasons to be paranoid? Also the feeling that you are the only one awake and a long road ahead will definitely do it to me. Reminds me of walking home from highschool parties. Usually a very long walk with the 7-11 the only stop. Usually for flaming hot cheetos. Long walks too. Through parks and over streams. Past cops and firemen.
Half a bottle of Jack, a stolen jacket and a cigarrette to keep track of time. Schweet.
still havent read it. not sure what happened.
Reminds me of walking home (from the bus, in the King-n-Story area) after a night of drinking.
And getting hassled for looking like a school teacher by the SJPD?
That has happened (once in the daytime)
yeah, sjpd stopped me once for walking home with a burrito...
Could be a dangerous weapon...that's why I allowed smoking in the bathroom at the frat house ;)