MudBlogs

Lest I forget. Somewhere... in between the "black-outs, the white-outs," we "inebriates" make our way out the exit-doors, usually head first, or by the seat of our pants... on a "good night." The 'last call for alcohol' at Kodiak Ron's sent shock-waves throughout my body... sirens wailed in my mind every time I heard it, that magical pump and dump, “I gotta get another half-rack of "sixteen-pounders" before the clock hits 2-am.,” I slam down what's left in the bottle, gear-up for another "after-hours party."    Slip'n my way through all the beautiful bouquet' of booze... wilting so pretty with the night, wilted, faded light, jaded... as I find my way out the door. It had gotten foggy and cold since I started drinking that early after-noon day. All bet's off after 12... that's the rule. The parking-lot was huge, I couldn't see beyond fifty feet of my face. I negotiated my way to...

I've blazed through my life so fast— God, I hadn't a moment to take a sober breath, even recognize who I was really, what I was… and what I was becoming, inebriated. Everybody I knew, we're just like me, at least I thought so, fuck' alcoholic nut cases. When your in a world of shit—sometimes all you can see is a world of shit, sometimes all you know is a world of shit, and that your part of its stench. I was privileged to experience the ugliest of the ugliest in life early on, and I made up my mind about life then. Perhaps this is my station…being beneath the station.  I have positive genius for mixing with the most fucked up weirdos… in the most sorted places, a man could lower himself too, under the influence of John Barley Corn. For this drunk—the idea of  'sobriety ten minutes before it happened' was unthinkable. I couldn't imagine life without booze. Who the fuck would want to walk through this rotten ass world sober?  Who really does I thought? Its imp...