Till it Hurts...

I woke up in the lobby of The Massee one morning this past week. I don’t live there and I don’t know what the hell I was doing there. I was still pretty buzzed (completely drunk) when some douchebag woke me up to ask if it was warm outside. Go check and see for yourself buddy, the doors right there and I’m obviously working over here, so can I get some peace and quiet, please?
It took me a few minutes to get my bearing and a few more to find my cell phone which had lodged wonderfully in between the cushions of the couch along with the other kind of goodies I can only imagine end up in between the cushions of a couch in the lobby of The Massee. Needless to say the walk back to Cotton Avenue seemed like an eternity and the cigarette I smoked on the way home would be the last one I’d smoke all day. It was as bad as it sounds, only worse, and somehow all worth it.
I think this was Thursday morning. I’m not really sure, and it doesn’t really matter. Despite that couch being comfortable as hell compared to that K-Mart parking lot or that ditch in Moscow that I’ve awoken in previously, there is something unsettling about waking up in a strange place and not knowing how you got there.
I had finished doing some work downtown around six and went to grab some wings and a beer. Next thing I knew I had managed to hit just about every place in town (I’m assuming) in search of whatever it is I’m searching for (besides the bottom of a bottle) when I go out. I had been off all week and had no real obligations before noon each day. Regardless, I had no intentions of becoming a sloppy mess. It had been done the week before anyhow, and if anything, I was hoping something interesting in the context of the evening would occur. The thing is, nothing had to. There’s a reason I stayed out all night and it’s not because I was sitting at the bar drowning my sorrows in a beer.
I’ve gotten tired of going out and having a visual train of the mundane and monotonous run on me. You know what I mean, the same crowd in the khakis, North Face jackets, tucked in plaid shirts, the “I’m tryin to dress up so I can get in the club and act like a whore” outfit. I’m not bitching, if fact, I like “people watching” and it’s these things that I observe and amuse myself with that get me through the moments when real entertainment is lacking. I guess in my drunken stupor I figured it was time to re-evaluate the reasoning of others as I perceived it. I tried and I probably failed but there are several things that I have realized over the course of my drunken excursions, and not to belabor an already hackneyed point, but I feel as though I need to elaborate. If I come across as specifically ambiguous, it is intentional so please don’t get confused.
There are different types of nights in the mindset of both males and females, there are the nights when crocs and sweats are acceptable (never in my book) and there are the nights when certain attire is expected depending on the situation (khakis and a blue oxford and loafers or khakis and a suit jacket depending on the circumstances{I do not condone any of these atrocities, this is merely an observance})Typically individuals go out with a specific goal in mind, the most common being to get sloppy drunk in an effort to impress friends with the ability to consume large quantities of alcohol, the other being the intention of going home with a girl they meet out that night, one who typically possesses the same level of tact and class as themselves.
Don’t be these people. Getting drunk is fun enough; don’t ruin it for the rest of us by giving it a bad (worse) name than it already has. Drink as much as you want and wake up were you so desire, but in the process, please avoid the aforementioned tendencies that could potentially tarnish the image others may potentially have of you. Enjoy going out and getting schwasted for the sake of getting schwasted, don’t do it for any other reason. Or do, it makes me look that much better when I’m drooling on myself in an apathetic drunken daze.

PART II

I get flashbacks. Often. A song comes on and reminds me of a cool fall day when my bedroom window was open in the middle of the afternoon. I don’t know how this is significant at all but it feels good. I want to be there right now. I walk into a room and I am overcome with a feeling of excitement that is almost too much to contain. I smell a cigarette and I can transport though time. Seeing the sky in the afternoon on a cloudy day, I am suddenly in a dream, and I am in complete control. My movements through life have been dictated by the flashbacks of things I have not even experienced. I have flashbacks of the future. I am looking back on things I’ve never experienced, but eventually will. I don’t understand this and I don’t know if I want to. It will play a crucial role in my demise. Although I’m looking back on it right now, I’m not sure if knowing this will help. From what I see, I won’t be able to change a thing.

enough to leave you wondering

It feels like I’m buried in wet sand, the crushing weight momentarily numbing the pain until the sand seems to melt away and the numbness subsides. Now it’s just pain. Hot, wet and sharp. Everything is a blur. Noise and light seemed to collide. All I can hear is the echoing in my ears of whatever just knocked me on my ass. All I can see is the dirt that fills my eyes and when I rub them, a cloudy, almost tranquil brightness pierces through. I can’t tell if the blurry grey figures around me are moving or not and for a second, I don’t know if I want them to be. This all seems last an hour but it can’t be more than a few seconds.

“HELP! Mommy! HELP ME!” is the first thing I hear. It’s barely decipherable at first. Maybe because it surprises me. Maybe because I think I hear something else, or am at least expecting to. I try to get up but begin to stumble. The indignity of the situation is one of the first things I feel. That can’t be right though. I must still be in shock. It isn’t a child screaming. It’s the kind of voice that is deep and commanding, and the desperation in it scares me more than anything else…

I hate your stupid t-shirt

Whoever originated the saying "When you 'assume', you make an ass out of 'you' and 'me'" is an idiot and a loser, not to mention a douche bag for trying so hard to be clever that in the process they created a fallacy that has set society back 60 years.
People are clearly afraid to assume these days. I'm not! If I'm walking down a dark alley and I see a figure emerge from the shadows, brandishing a gun and wearing a ski mask, I am in fact going to ASSUME that they have some sort of ill-intent, presumably towards me. The only problem we've encountered isn't with assuming but with common sense. I could also, in an attempt to be politically correct, assume that the individual previously mentioned has legitimate reasons for the situation and approach them to find out…
Indecision has become our default, and rather than act or take charge, passing the problem along has become a typical solution.
Always ASSUME a gun is loaded, always ASSUME the other guy will screw you over, and always ASSUME the worst. Is it such an asinine concept to think that we actually have the ability to accurately reason and make assumptions that will benefit us? There are plenty of individuals who I would never give this credit to; I would like to think that most of us do possess this ability to some degree however.
Do I stereotype? Hell yes! Do I assume if you're black you are a rapper or that if you're Jewish, you are a jeweler? Not at all. (I assume that if you're black you don't tip well and that if you're Jewish, I should probably have some alternative food choices when I invite you over for the pig roast.{this is a joke}) For some reason, the promulgation of a politically correct, de-masculinized society that is overly concerned with everyone's "feelings" being my assumption, we have begun to cower in the face of decision and choice. What if I choose wrong? What if I offend someone? What will people think of me?
We lack conviction and strength. We lack the courage to stand up against anything except standing up! Apathy has been the precursor to nothing, ever, and never will be. The great wars that have shaped this world and the tragedies that have defined it, started and ended with individuals that had the courage to stand up.
The apexes of history have never been based on certainty and it's a pusillanimous person that needs such reinforcement to make a decision or take action.