Last night I ended up taking the bus to the bar and getting smashed. Two tequilla shots, two shots of Jack Daniels, two well drinks. I can't believe I drank so much in less than an hour and didn't puke. Then I came home and got extremely friendly with my long time online friend. It was coming anway, but alcohol helped. My sex life is turning new shades of pathetic lately. God Stephen is a dick.
So I'm hung over and cold, and didn't leave the house except to put myself in this state. Yesterday was a strange mixture of anxiety, boredom and acceptance. I watched television twice. So far, my quest for mental wholeness has not yielded positive results. I've written mediocre poems and fragmented, mediocre songs, and I have only managed to read one or part of one poem a day since my big epiphany. I need to pump some life back into this revival if it is ever going to change me. Ughhhhhhhhhhhh hang overs suck.
Actually, that last statement isn't true. I've read many poems on pathetic.org. I've also reevaluated my own poetry after gaining a different perspective on it. Perhaps I should read a novel now, or some non-fiction, or the news (also potentially non-fiction). The reading muscles in my brain need to be worked. Also, my abdominal and ass muscles need to be worked. Sex any one? I seem to be very lewd today. Ah well, I'll go with it.