Wow, what's with all the non-posting… I feel like I bounce between monstrous amounts of output and very little. Anyway, so Blair comes by yesterday because we were going to try and record a few hours of text for his book (then basically converting interview to normal prose), so at around two in the afternoon, he, I, and Marty sat down for a pitcher and some snacks. Well, the pitchers kept coming, and while I think the camera did get turned on at some point, I don't think anything got recorded. Phil joined us at I think around 4:30 when he'd wrapped up work for the day.
We stayed there until I think about six o'clock (with a pitcher always full). Then we walked across the street to the bar in Phil's building, and continued the process… I think Jon, much bigger Jon, CJ, Kelly, Tom, and maybe other people showed up as well? We stayed until last call (I think that means 2AM?), so it brought back memories of the old BBQ days where I'd drink a two-four and then fall off the roof of my truck — or worse yet, drinking a bottle of vodka as a teenager and going gravelsurfing. For those of you who aren't hillbillies, that's when you either hold onto a rope tied to the bumper of a car or just the bumper, and go tearing down gravel roads… It's kind of like waterskiing for people who are afraid of the water but otherwise have no problem with fear (to be clear: I love waterskiing and gravelsurfing).
Anyway, I see CJ woke up with a smashed up face with no recollection of how it happened, and I wiped out on a bunch of oil. Honestly! Not a drunken wipeout! Although maybe that would have been better because I think I kind of slid along this oil patch on my knees, and got one of those really light scrapes that takes for ever to heal (and I imagine the oil — which was intensely painful to wash off with eucalyptus soap — didn't help). And Blair, well, he had a close encounter with death (seriously, it's a small miracle he's alive) that he said I can't repeat here or no one will ever drink with him again.
Tattoexpo Gothenburg photo by Zolish
(Also check out her traditional Samoan tatau and serial number tattoo)
Oh, and they occasionally asked us to leave (
“You can't stay here if your friend is sleeping!” — I guess that's the polite way of saying
“if your passed out buddy pisses on our couch, we're calling the cops”), but I think we were at the point where it would have taken physical force or at least muzak* to remove us because we pretty much ignored everything other than “can I get you another pitcher?”
But seriously, as fun as yesterday was I think it actually signals a self medication problem. I have my next doctor's appointment on Monday. I missed one because I got the dates mixed up so it's been a while and I'm basically on a very low level drug to control seizures and help me sleep. I don't feel suicidally depressed like I did in the past, but I definitely feel down and feel like I might be controllling it “unofficially” in ways that while a lot of fun, are not neccessarily productive. I felt really good for the brief period I was on SSRIs, but I guess I was getting a little “too happy” so that got cut.
Anyway, I'm just finishing off a big update (including the piercing one from last night that was postponed) so that'll be up later. And I have a lot of water to drink today to get re-hydrated because right now my brain feels two sizes two small and is rattling around the inside of my skull, earning one concussive impact after another. “I'll never drink again”… Yeah right.
*
“Give 'em the Muzak” — that reminds me, I have to write an entry on Suburbia (the old punk movie) because it was a very early to DIY branding in pop culture… If anyone has the movie and can do some screencaps/rips of the various “TR” brands and other BME-relevant stuff, and isn't already an editor, drop me a line.
