15 days without booze
deserted by my muse
pecking away seems futile when im sober
i keep picking up great books
people with style and craftsmanship
people who take words seriously
so why bother typing?

every now and then i have a thought
beating up on my imaginary dependence on alcohol seems fun
its pretty easy not to drink
there are pangs of thirst
but i see the conditioning better now
my body still responds to the drinking stimuli that bombard us all
recently in the comic section hagar the horrible was having a meeting of his explorers club
thats the line he sold helga, anyway
the punch line was the club was going to explore the contents of a bottle of twelve year old scotch
mmm....scotch
my body said
cartoonists want me to be a drunk again

homer simpson beats a different drum

about 4 or five every day i get a little thirsty
training
so i reach for a sweet snack to replace the sweet empty calories of alcohol
fool my body
calm it down
the bubbles in seltzer water are a good fake out when i "need" a beer
give my belly the liquid fullness that it is used to
not drinking is easy
all you need is a strong mind

its much harder not to work
thats the hardest habit to break
its hard to find something to do for money that doesnt seem like a complete waste of time
teaching in the inner city for instance
feeding drunks beers for tips
becoming the alcoholic's pusher man
feigning interest in a boozehounds story
because he tips well
he imagines you are his friend
you remember his name
his drink
you have polite conversation
and he leaves a little less lonely
you get a handful of change

being competitive and surrounded by the fumes
you become a raging alcoholic
driving home when others are on their way to work
after a night at the after hours club
partying with young members of the mafia
playing video poker
doing lines in the bathroom
sinatra on the jukebox
barry white
at the wawa your coffee is to get you home
the commuters are on their way in
you try to keep the car between the lines
a dui at 730 am would be very undignified
you almost nod off into a concrete median barrier
that wakes you up
shaky with adrenaline
you make it home undamaged
without a vehicular manslaughter charge
and chalk another one up in the tie column

you ponder your glamourous existense
you thank your lucky stars
you swear off the after hours scene for a bit
you start thinking about a job with less attractive distractions

i am horrified at the amount of planning that went into being a full time alcoholic
the decisions
what to drink
where to drink it
whens the liqour store close
what is the mixer?
how much will you have for the rest of the week
is half a bottle enough for the coma you long for?
will you be able to kill enough brain cells to sleep with x amount of spiced rum
will the lemonade give me an acid stomach
do i have antacid

now my mind is free of all that clutter
i can concentrate on such weighty considerations as
ummm
wow
a perfect zen brain
empty

well, my shithole is a lot cleaner anyways
my beer weight is slowly melting off
i almost feel like working out some days
i almost am bored enough to try to get a job
maybe ill stumble across something interesting
maybe ill do a situp or two
maybe pigs will fly
who knows what wonders the future may bring
what treasures
what horseshit
what torment

i think my next movie will be about the latest rap phenomenon
snitch rap
glorifying the role of the police informant
"snitchers get richer
snitchez get bitchez,
whil all y'all gangstas
in jail with no britches"
the rest of the rhymes write themselves
maybe some rapper who funded his record label thru drug money
then bragged about it on the album a little too specifically
has to cut a deal
so this multi platinum star
has to invent a new genre of rap
snitch rap
with such hits as "hug the police"
like the old nwa sonf EFF the police
except nicer
hug the police
coming straight outta germantown
young brother gettin down with the PAL

a ferret stares back
i look again
a deformed ferret
curled like half a paperclip
looks like it tried to swallow a golfball
and choked to death
on the golfball
and then somehow found its way into my toilet bowl
no way that came out of me
but, yes
theres a drop of blood floating on the water
more on the toilet paper
how did that ever come out of me?
damn you brett farve!
damn you and your oxycodone addiction
i know it fucks up my plumbing
but the bottle of pills was just sitting there in the box of trash
and the alluring labels
each labels warning, sung by an angel
circling my head
may cause drowsiness
may cause drowsiness
do not mix with alcohol
do not mix with alcohol
do not operate heavy machinery
never the machinery
no workee dah machinery
jah jah
no workee duh machinery
a chorus of angels singing to me
each with her song
the last angel all dreadlocked out
my rastafarian angel
who torments me
as i prepare for a drug test
for the corporate bar gig that may or may not happen
that rastafarian angel is mad because i got the hook up now
the sticky bud
the dank
the k bee
(the kind bud)
that hydro
that haze
blueberry, northern lights
or any genetic variation thereof
in my hands withing a fracttion of a day
and i cant do it cuz i gotta work
dont they know ima friggin artiste'?
that i need my brain food?
and how the hell did that ferret get in my toilet tank?
is this how prison will feel?
torn rectal tissues
rectal bleeding
that shit took twenty minutes to ease out
glaciers move quicker
i think it must have hit bottom there
like an anal kick stand
and halted progress
before i had the nerve to push a little
"its coming out now
i see it
its crowning
push baby now push"
thats it
what is it what is it?
mr baker
its a ferret
dont worry about the misshapen head
that'll fuse together in the next couple of weeks
remember not to give any noogies to your lil guy for a few

ive had quite vivid dreams
when ive chased those pills with vodka
memorable dreams that i dont remember now
one was a repeat
the meaning of life one
where i discover whats its all about
after a series of trials
and breakthroughs
it was a repeat tho
and i wasnt ready for it, spiritually, at this time
possessing as i do now a storm battered, skeptical, wheezing, limping into port kind of spirit now
a spirit in need of some lemon limey effervessence
in need of some fresca
where is my fresca of the soul?
id like a case please

the pills are the ticket to dreamland
but at what cost?
any time i started sitting down yesterday i had to do so tenderly
easing the inflamed tissue to the chair
i dont know if the dreams are worth it
and im suddenly allergic to ferrets

This looks good
im sure its nothing
no reason to panic
no reason to stop saving for the future
or to stop exercising
or to go on that spree of mayhem you've fantasized about

its prolly nothing
damn over excited scientist is all
remain calm
nothing to see here
go about your business