Crazy Rant: To be, or not to be - Drunk!
Premise: Fuck you! Fuck each and every fucking one of you!
I'm sorry, I am quite literally 'blah' at this point. It's one thing to live in a world where people numb themselves with drugs, but it's entirely another to have the same numbing agents do jack shit for me.
As any capable being knowing me would know, I don't have mass for alcohol tolerance - literally, again. I fuckin' don't. When I say I can be fucked up on five pounds or ten dollars, I mean it sincerely. Hell, I've come to realise that this is a very exaggerated estimated, because I could get smashed on far less. Yes, I walked into a party, sober and serious as a man about go on mass-vengeance, and through -very- annoying circumstances, guzzled down three glasses of red-wine within a window of five-minutes. Well, the rest after that is a painful ordeal. I call those five minutes, my personal heaven, by the way.
"Just three glasses of red wine?" - Some might as ask.
"You don't know my fuckin' anatomy, Junior, so shut the fuck up before I break a wine bottle over your head without any fucking regrets!" - The typical irritant response.
I don't get drunk like normal people, because I get all the bad sides of being drunk. No, I do not lose my memory. No, I do not forget myself. No, I do not develop a bad speech impediment. Fuck, I don't even lose my recollection of the entire session, which is probably the most annoying part. I mean, this was a night for me; sniffed cocaine, and had more alcohol than my physique can allow me. So all I got in return was the odd state of remaining lucid and cogent, with extreme dizziness, visual-imbalance, and the natural inability to stand up without clinging onto something; not to mention, laughing on my ever-so-vibrant cynicism. Yes, quite literally all the bad points of getting drunk, without any of the good. I ingested this shit to numb myself and forget, but instead, my senses heightened, while my physical balance was the only factor of diminishment.
Yes, this is justice, isn't it? "Why the fuck don't I feel numb?" I wondered as my candid nature went into high-gear. Yes, the only thing I got out of this was nausea, dizziness and a very bad head ache. I say this about eight-hours-later. Bring me red wine right now, and I'll likely throw up--don't expect much to be there aside from some liquid and stomach acids--puke for the fucking win. The worse part, I have retained every annoying, gut-wrenching memory from the night.
This brings back an old account. I met this tarrot card reader a few years ago, and she told me that the only drug capable of numbing me, and soothing me, even, will be a gun-shot to my head, or drinking ichors from the very gods themselves. *Right*, god-blood! That's what I need: WHERE THE FUCK DO I FIND SOME? Could rat-blood get the job done halfway? Perhaps I should go to one of those vampire raves and have a go.
Fuck.
You mother-loving twats are friggin' fortunate to at least enjoy getting wasted for what it is: Being smashed beyond the farthest reaches of oblivion, and then not remembering a damned thing about the tripping experience. Yeah, people will take this for granted, because I guess it's standard - WELL NOT FOR ME, YOU FUCKIN' INGRATES! GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Maybe I'll piss off some big guy and get a few blows to my head; nothing beats the amnesiac after-effects of a concussion.
Stay cool, fuckers.
Later,
Kade - Your unholy drunk, who wishes that he could be a real drunk, ONCE FOR A FUCKING CHANGE!
I'm sorry, I am quite literally 'blah' at this point. It's one thing to live in a world where people numb themselves with drugs, but it's entirely another to have the same numbing agents do jack shit for me.
As any capable being knowing me would know, I don't have mass for alcohol tolerance - literally, again. I fuckin' don't. When I say I can be fucked up on five pounds or ten dollars, I mean it sincerely. Hell, I've come to realise that this is a very exaggerated estimated, because I could get smashed on far less. Yes, I walked into a party, sober and serious as a man about go on mass-vengeance, and through -very- annoying circumstances, guzzled down three glasses of red-wine within a window of five-minutes. Well, the rest after that is a painful ordeal. I call those five minutes, my personal heaven, by the way.
"Just three glasses of red wine?" - Some might as ask.
"You don't know my fuckin' anatomy, Junior, so shut the fuck up before I break a wine bottle over your head without any fucking regrets!" - The typical irritant response.
I don't get drunk like normal people, because I get all the bad sides of being drunk. No, I do not lose my memory. No, I do not forget myself. No, I do not develop a bad speech impediment. Fuck, I don't even lose my recollection of the entire session, which is probably the most annoying part. I mean, this was a night for me; sniffed cocaine, and had more alcohol than my physique can allow me. So all I got in return was the odd state of remaining lucid and cogent, with extreme dizziness, visual-imbalance, and the natural inability to stand up without clinging onto something; not to mention, laughing on my ever-so-vibrant cynicism. Yes, quite literally all the bad points of getting drunk, without any of the good. I ingested this shit to numb myself and forget, but instead, my senses heightened, while my physical balance was the only factor of diminishment.
Yes, this is justice, isn't it? "Why the fuck don't I feel numb?" I wondered as my candid nature went into high-gear. Yes, the only thing I got out of this was nausea, dizziness and a very bad head ache. I say this about eight-hours-later. Bring me red wine right now, and I'll likely throw up--don't expect much to be there aside from some liquid and stomach acids--puke for the fucking win. The worse part, I have retained every annoying, gut-wrenching memory from the night.
This brings back an old account. I met this tarrot card reader a few years ago, and she told me that the only drug capable of numbing me, and soothing me, even, will be a gun-shot to my head, or drinking ichors from the very gods themselves. *Right*, god-blood! That's what I need: WHERE THE FUCK DO I FIND SOME? Could rat-blood get the job done halfway? Perhaps I should go to one of those vampire raves and have a go.
Fuck.
You mother-loving twats are friggin' fortunate to at least enjoy getting wasted for what it is: Being smashed beyond the farthest reaches of oblivion, and then not remembering a damned thing about the tripping experience. Yeah, people will take this for granted, because I guess it's standard - WELL NOT FOR ME, YOU FUCKIN' INGRATES! GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Maybe I'll piss off some big guy and get a few blows to my head; nothing beats the amnesiac after-effects of a concussion.
Stay cool, fuckers.
Later,
Kade - Your unholy drunk, who wishes that he could be a real drunk, ONCE FOR A FUCKING CHANGE!
posted by Kade at 1:20 PM
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