consumption_of_drinks.txt

Friday, March 11, 20:03: 2 drinks from 6am to 17:30pm, from half a pint of bombay sapphire. Then went out and got another bottle. Had two drinks between 17:30 and 20:05.
Friday, March 11, 20:05: Still 2 drinks left in second Bombay bottle, but feel I may need to get more to last me and keep me from desire. Debating ordering in (which means ordering 2 bottles to match delivery requirements) or walking over.
Friday, March 11, 20:06: Going with delivery. My end goal is to be able to master the rate of consumption such as to not be self-destructive, so this makes sense. Walking over may have made more sense had I been less sober (in terms of clearing the mind and so on), but given that I feel pretty secure, I'm going with delivery of two more pints of gin.
Friday, March 11, 20:12: Decided against delivery of two bottles. Walking out to buy one pint of gin.
Friday, March 11, 20:24: Returned with a bottle of gin. Placed in freezer. Old bottle still has a drink or two in it. Will report further, hopefully.
Saturday, March 12 07:20 Functioning nominally. Have run of out of drinks. Must wait 3 fucking hours for any semblance of alchohol. Thought I lived in the center of the fucking world, and not fuller house.
Saturday, March 12 11:32 It's funny how moods change. Now I can do with or without a drink. I still want one. I could walk out and get one. But it's not very compelling.
Saturday, March 12 11:41 Going to walk out bearing a very grumpy face, for laffs
Saturday, March 12 12:00 I made probably the most basic comparisons with the world of The Division during my walk. I really wished that I had trotted my phone along as well, in order to show friends some of the differences in terms of nuance between the Division and walking out into Chelsea. There was a particular spot of vomit which I feel was not entirely covered by the game. I also managed to tag a notice sheet on an elevator that was gloating about adding 'bike stands' in the basement of the building (?). I basically said "PUT FIOS too".
Saturday, March 12 12:03 It took me 3 minutes to express the above
Saturday, March 12 12:08 While enjoying only a sip of gin, I am musing about the disconnection I feel with handheld devices such as phones. A part of my brain is trying to convince the other that it may be time to stop dawdling and fucking play the Division already. I'm still wearing shoes--why am I wearing shoes in my house? I'm--I'm still wearing long trousers. Why?
Saturday, March 12 12:08: I admit this has now become a 'format' for me, and I'm kind of adding special flavors. I promise this is just a spell, and later logs will be in earnest.

Tombstone Suggestion

there. in the deep of sea, i encountered all that is dark in me.

---

Another rolling wave that ushers every detailed ulcer,
some poison who toiled with me in hope I would be gentle.
Let us switch now, from the first to our famous third person:

"I'm happy," said a human being in the environment. "I'm happy to be
out and about. Feeling the breeze, the salts in air, how wonderful!"
Small whirlwind appears next to this cheerful person's foot, a grin of wind.

We're still in the third person, and that grin is accumulating mischief.
Mischief, mind, not malice. Type of thing who would rather tap on your head
and allow pigeons to crash into it, than totally bash it in.

"What if you just dove off?" suggested this little, naughty wind, causing a pause.
They were at a cliff, upon which an enterprising man had seen fit to supply coconuts
chopped clean from their tops and prodded with huge plastic straws out of proportion.

"I'm getting coconuts," she said, absent of mind and further infuriating the evil wind.
Her body began to float toward the businessman. Twas all a daemon could do to keep up.
"You are getting coconuts?" said the wind. "This is a poem about death and suicide, you're getting bloody coconuts?"

The human stopped and smiled at the wind. Then, why just smile, but also let out a beautiful laugh?
Tried to gather the wind and hug it close to her, but could not, since it was, well, wind.
"You were going to make some kind of proposition?" she said, pushing cash from her wallet

and pulling the coconut in. The wind watched this activity with great distaste.
"Suddenly you're a woman, now. We started with you being androgynous."
"And then your puny mind projected all your thoughts and beliefs about a girl you once met

upon that flavorless template. See how your little mind works? Now come on," she said approaching the edge.
"That man had only one coconut. Who sets up a whole business like that, to sell one coconut at the cliff?"
From there, in their depths, you could see the waves crashing in earnest. "Come now. You said you had something to say."

It was getting really hot, the wind. Seeing those crashey waves was doing something to it,
changing it, making it whistle in strange and uncertain ways. "I did," said the wind, "I did,"
the girth from its eye of hope was narrowing, and the cyclone was fermenting illustriously its smile.

Then just quietness. No sounds. Nothing, really. The wind had to text her in order to keep the conversation going.
"I was going to tell you to just jump off" it texted.
She furiously typed back on the phone: "WTF???!!!?? WTF wtf WTF???!!!"

He furiously typed back, reborn and with a greater sense of clarity: "Listen!
I was going to ask you to jump off, indeed. But only so that I could actuate,
only that in your darkest slice of time, I'd rally and be there for you, lifting you gently to the shore."

They both laughed horrendously. It was terrible, their sound.
"You are a stupid and vain little man," she said.
"I know," said the wind. "All mischief and no malice."