Verbal Vomit
021607
2108 Hours
It’s there for the taking. I can feel it, man. Moments away from getting to where I want/need to be. One problem though: I have no idea what it looks like. Ooooh, beer!
Thoughts like that are a dime a dozen on this reservation, especially on a mother f****’ Friday night. But not me though. I’m done with that. I’m too old. I’ve learned my lessons the hard way. Yeah, the hanging out with people is cool, but after about an hour, peoples eyes start to slant, their breath gets even worse and the same topics keep coming up over and over and over. Then the frequent bro handshakes and the expressions of drunk love can be heard until the last light goes out in their head. Good times? I beg to differ… now. But back in the day… man, I was a party animal. After school/work, during school/work, until school/work… you name it, I could and would get drunk any time of the day. In my later drunk years, I could get up from a dead sleep with work or school only a few hours away and start up and go until I was choked out from the beer or whatever the hell was going around about 36 hours later. It actually got to a point where I would stay up for about 30 hours without knowing it. Hey man, that’s what Red Lakers do. We put life aside for a bit if it gets too tough and continue it at a later time after a few cold ones. I would like to share stories of nights out, but I can’t remember much. That’s just how drunk I was all the time. The pride my parents must have felt.
Like I said, those days are long gone. My body couldn’t take anymore. My mind sure as hell couldn’t take it anymore. The panic attacks made sure of that. Have you ever experienced a panic attack? It feels like life is swiftly moving you along to get you out of the way of others. Everything starts moving faster, your heart pounds at such a rapid rate that you can hear and feel it pounding, your mind tells you to hold on because something major is about to happen and you have no choice but to expect the worst. “Maybe it’s a heart attack,” your first thought is. “F*** that! I think I’m going crazy!” Yeah, you think you’re going crazy. I was afraid I was going to get lost in my mind and there’s nobody else in there to help you cope with all that’s going to happen. Being alone has always been one of my biggest fears and I sure didn’t want to be all alone in my head. There are a lot of memories in there that I don’t want to relive. Maybe it’s different for others. They’re biggest fears could consume them when they think time is not on their side.
But what the hell do I know?
I think it’s time to share something that I have been ashamed to admit for a while; recently, I set out to accomplish a feat that was over 5 months in the making. I feel so violated after it was all said and done. I no longer felt like a man. The effort was there, the result I anticipated wasn’t. I was figuratively beaten into the ground again and again until time no longer allowed. Yes, the Colts beat me in the Super Bowl in Madden ’07 58-28. Why?!?!?! 27 hours of my life I’ll never get back has left me feeling so shallow.
I had to lighten up the mood after my sad rant of my former drunken life. I hope it worked. (No, really… I was pissed that I got beat that bad.)
Be cool, brah!
2108 Hours
It’s there for the taking. I can feel it, man. Moments away from getting to where I want/need to be. One problem though: I have no idea what it looks like. Ooooh, beer!
Thoughts like that are a dime a dozen on this reservation, especially on a mother f****’ Friday night. But not me though. I’m done with that. I’m too old. I’ve learned my lessons the hard way. Yeah, the hanging out with people is cool, but after about an hour, peoples eyes start to slant, their breath gets even worse and the same topics keep coming up over and over and over. Then the frequent bro handshakes and the expressions of drunk love can be heard until the last light goes out in their head. Good times? I beg to differ… now. But back in the day… man, I was a party animal. After school/work, during school/work, until school/work… you name it, I could and would get drunk any time of the day. In my later drunk years, I could get up from a dead sleep with work or school only a few hours away and start up and go until I was choked out from the beer or whatever the hell was going around about 36 hours later. It actually got to a point where I would stay up for about 30 hours without knowing it. Hey man, that’s what Red Lakers do. We put life aside for a bit if it gets too tough and continue it at a later time after a few cold ones. I would like to share stories of nights out, but I can’t remember much. That’s just how drunk I was all the time. The pride my parents must have felt.
Like I said, those days are long gone. My body couldn’t take anymore. My mind sure as hell couldn’t take it anymore. The panic attacks made sure of that. Have you ever experienced a panic attack? It feels like life is swiftly moving you along to get you out of the way of others. Everything starts moving faster, your heart pounds at such a rapid rate that you can hear and feel it pounding, your mind tells you to hold on because something major is about to happen and you have no choice but to expect the worst. “Maybe it’s a heart attack,” your first thought is. “F*** that! I think I’m going crazy!” Yeah, you think you’re going crazy. I was afraid I was going to get lost in my mind and there’s nobody else in there to help you cope with all that’s going to happen. Being alone has always been one of my biggest fears and I sure didn’t want to be all alone in my head. There are a lot of memories in there that I don’t want to relive. Maybe it’s different for others. They’re biggest fears could consume them when they think time is not on their side.
But what the hell do I know?
I think it’s time to share something that I have been ashamed to admit for a while; recently, I set out to accomplish a feat that was over 5 months in the making. I feel so violated after it was all said and done. I no longer felt like a man. The effort was there, the result I anticipated wasn’t. I was figuratively beaten into the ground again and again until time no longer allowed. Yes, the Colts beat me in the Super Bowl in Madden ’07 58-28. Why?!?!?! 27 hours of my life I’ll never get back has left me feeling so shallow.
I had to lighten up the mood after my sad rant of my former drunken life. I hope it worked. (No, really… I was pissed that I got beat that bad.)
Be cool, brah!
posted by Jonny R. at 12:51 PM
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