Look I ain’t going to stand here and tell you what the deal is, because you already know. Somehow the decision handed down was it’s time to talk about one word, and one word only, and this week, the word is “drunk.”
Now normally I come up in this bitch and try to avoid disappointing EVERYONE in my life by spending about five minutes trying to put together something clever worthy of being on the same general URL as these luminaries who have the audacity to label themselves crusaders.
You may remember me from such posts as
Short Story About a Man Outside Who No One Gives Three Shits About Or Can Even Hear If He’s Saying Dopio and Besides Which Has No Distinguishing Features Whatsoever Other Than the Fact That He Is Near Me and I Need to Write a Story.
But I don’t need to tell you how I get down. If you’re reading this it’s probably because your Saturday didn’t pan out.
Maybe you decided to start a blog and you searched for something like “Can I Really Write About Anything??” and then you winded up just clicking through results at random. Here’s some bad advice for you, mother fucker, take three Valium and wake up tonight, when the stakes are high again and life seems to have some kind of over-arching theme.
The theme, of course, will be: forget about that time you tried to start a blog.
Now you may say to yourself, “Shit man, how did we get here? I thought all of these posts were organized and shit. Like don’t you have to write about, I don’t know something about a one-word prompt?”
You ever memorize the United States Constitution?
Now if you’re thinking, what’s that got to do with anything? I’m Filipino. Well, guess what? Don’t even worry about it! Constitution is like Shakespeare, bitch! Everybody memorizes it!
Now you may be trying to improve your English skills by reading trashy blog posts, and maybe you grew up in another world, so maybe you’re thinking Shakespeare? What’s that shit about? I been memorizing some other shit in a totally different language my whole life and I don’t know shit about that! That situation has nothing to do with me what-so-ever!
Oh yeah? Is that what you think?? Then how do you know how to say some colloquial shit like ‘what-so-ever’?? Sounds like you a native speaker to me, got damn it! So let’s get with the program!
Preamble, mother fucker, is what I’m talking about!
Never memorized no god damned Constitution, but you sure know something about the preamble, because that’s the part that gives you the gist, and the gist is all you need, especially when shit don’t matter at all, as is the case with the Constitution and this blog post right here.
Especially because this is the preamble, and I ain’t said one mother fucking word about what I’m really going to say to you about this one-word prompt right here. Which is “drunk”, by the way, case you done went your ass to sleep in the middle there.
Yeah mother fuckers I had a drink or two. Why’d I do it?
I’ll tell you why. My brother’s an alcoholic.
I walked into a liquor store one time with a baseball bat. I just wanted another bottle of rum, and I was carrying around the baseball bat as part of a new thing where I felt especially vulnerable.
I didn’t even think of it just walked in there with the bat. It’s a t-ball bat, too, because I didn’t want to confuse mother fuckers into thinking that I was headed to a game or something.
Yeah I did that one time. And it didn’t have anything to do with my brother. Or even why I had a drink. I just said those things.
That’s the funny thing about blog posts. If you want, you can just say any damn thing. People will read that shit. Why not? Get drunk and go read WordPress.
WordPress, the new Netflix.
I’ma get a Netflix show where I stand upside down and read terrible, terrible short stories to an appreciative audience. Then I’m going to cancel the show and live in a shack in the middle of Fifth Avenue.
People will come to me there and ask why I cancelled the show and I’ll pour them a drink of rotten vermouth and say things like,
“WordPress, god damn it, WordPress. It’s a press. But for words. You see, back in the day, in my time, we had a winepress. You put grapes in there. And you pressed them, or if you didn’t do it someone else did, and what came out was wine. And now, in these times, people is afraid of tetracarbides or some shit, and they don’t make their own wine anymore, so that means they got a lot of time on their hands, and what do you think they do with that? Well, if they’re like me, they write about being a boring ass mother fucker on their WordPress blog.”
By then the person will have left and I will drink the sour vermouth I put in their cup. You know why? Because man, what’s better than being drunk?
Now I’ma let you know before you tl;dr or something like that, that this shit is going to go on even further. Please comment if you stopped reading and at what point. This here’s a god damn experiment. How long will you read a meaningless diatribe? How long? Ask yourself, out loud if you have to…for God’s sake participate, will you?
Yeah I’ve had a drink or two, and why’d I do it? Because man, what’s better than being drunk?
Being drunk is like if you were lazy, right, and afraid of needles.
You’d be like, shit man, I could do some heroine. But I’d have to score it, poke myself with a needle, possibly be addicted to heroine for the rest of my life, and then the feeling is so intense. Shit man, I don’t know. Sounds like a task for a Saturday night.
But it ain’t Saturday night, though, is it? And if it is Saturday night, well god damn, stop reading this post and get ACTIVE.
Just fucking kidding. If it is Saturday night, I’m at a bar, but only because I’m working. And besides that, holy fuck, it’s Halloween! Do you know what kind of creepy ass shit is about to go down? Mother fucker, get inside! Conceal yourself and your favorite person or possession underneath the floorboards. Good christ get a fucking cyanide pill ready in case they torture you for the sheer whimsy of it.
Holy Fuck. Halloween? God damn it, it really is decorative gourd season!
People ask me if I smoke a lot of weed. I said to them when they asked me that, I said why ya’ll keep asking me if I smoke a lot of weed?
Anyway, you know what alcohol doesn’t do? It doesn’t stink up the drapes.
Yes, god damn it, that means I got fresh drapes in this bitch. They are green and I bought them from a man with a wooden leg on Etsy.
Yeah I’m about to batten down the hatches, to use a readily recognizeable and therefore meaningful group of words also known as a cliche, because it’s about to be harvest time, and I ain’t about that. Do you know what happens when you pull tubers out of the ground and shit? That shit is weird man! Fucking worms up in there. You think the earth wants you pulling all that shit out of there? Fuck no. Earth wants to have a warm Sambuca and take a fucking nap. Leave the bitch alone for a minute, damn!
Harvest time. Got your own moon and everything. Ya’ll are some weird mother fuckers. Harvestin’ shit left and right around this time a year, huh? Yeah I saw ya’ll on 14th Street. Fucking weirdos man, ya’ll need to have a drink and chill out. There’s this cool bar there, you could go there and just CHILL OUT.
See this is what alcohol gets you. You get angry. You get bitter, you get cold and you get cynical.
Did I say alcohol does that to you? I meant life. Alcohol gets you drunk.
Yeah man sometimes you need an escape and hell is other people. Sometimes you need to express the eternal darkness within and sometimes you need to self harm. Sometimes you can feel the present and the past and you don’t know where you are in between them and you decide to watch a movie to forget, but YOU don’t do that, not YOU, because YOU don’t watch movies.
Because if you read this far it’s because you don’t even have a TV. You think TV is killing people all over the world. You hate the ad man and you hate consumerism and you think you might be able to get laid once this year by telling someone that you don’t have a TV.
Guess what? You might get laid this year telling someone you don’t have a TV but you know what else? You can go get drunk right NOW and forget all that. Trust me, it’s Halloween, the freaky shit will take care of itself. Have a DRINK.
Yeah that’s why my brother’s an alcoholic. He loves drinking because he blacks back out and pisses himself and wakes up in the morning with something to do. Laundry.
Me I like drinking. I drink a lot. I drink in the morning.
I’m old now, so I don’t get drunk like I used to. Now I get drunk like an old person. I get bitter. I get cynical and mean. I get angry and I talk for several minutes without pausing. It’s not because I’m drunk, though, it’s because I’m old now, and that’s what life gets you.
Think it’s bad now?
Wait to you’re fucking OLD.
Oh yeah. Halloween’s a bitch, sure. Freaky ass mother fuckers walking around in masks talking about the Catholic pantheon.
Just wait till you’re trapped in a white sheeted nightmare aged three hundred thirty-two, unable to die, and they hid your alcohol somewhere. Then you’ll see.
You’ll all see.
But for now, have a drink.
Calm the fuck DOWN.
It ain’t Saturday night yet. The ghouls haven’t taken over yet. For now the goblins and the diplomats still got their lights on and we can all rest easy in the knowledge that a major metropolitan area is within driving distance and they got plenty of alcohol there. Enough to drink yourself into the next dimension, where things are just as bad as they are here, but they politely refuse to talk about it.
In other dimensions more civilized than ours, it rests on a third thing: the ability to shut the fuck up.
Yeah, but I don’t know shit about them civilizations. Hell I’m still writing. You can’t possibly be reading this still? Are you fucking insane? Cut this shit out, now, good Christ, if I knew someone was going to read this far I definitely wouldn’t have said that thing about the…
Ok took care of that. Jesus. The very idea that someone could have actually read this far and seen that.
Yeah man, fuck it. Sometimes you got to get drunk and say dumb shit to everyone. Do that for eight years straight and see if you don’t start to see some changes.
It’s Halloween mother fucker and my fingers are COLD.
Drunk post, BITCH.
Just kidding. I been sober this whole, whole time. Mostly.