Another Solo Mission - Drinking alone? Post here!

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Rye and Coke
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Re: Another Solo Mission

Post by Rye and Coke »

Hugh wrote:
Sat Aug 31, 2019 6:06 pm
Damb - it feels good to be home. As in NOT in a fucking bar. Yesterday an old "redneck" (his term, not mine) invited me to sit next to him at the bar as he drank beer, a shot of whiskey, and dipped Skoal. He spit the tobacco juice in a plastic cup. He wanted to unload on me about all the shit he reads on social media about gays, gay rights, the rainbow flag, etc. I sat and listened to him rant, and he was pleasantly surprised that I'm not some goddamb gay rights activist and actually share some things in common with people on the political right. It's not the first time this has happened, I often get approached in straight bars by people who want to talk about LGBT stuff and they always expect me to defend everything they read/hear about in the media. And they always buy me drinks as a gesture of good will. But it always leaves me exhausted and feeling dirty. (I always feel dirty after leaving a bar, though.)

I can't help but wonder if I made myself sick by laying behind that fucking garbage can on the sidewalk last night. I imagine there must have been at least a dozen strains of hepatitis back there. Why do I do such stupid shit? I've run into friends before when I'm out there staggering drunk, one time one of them got me out of the middle of the street. They've certainly lost some respect for me after seeing me like that. I can't blame them. I'm 54 years old and I'm out there acting like a teenager whose been slamming shots all night.

Got a new poem posted at As It Ought To Be Magazine: https://asitoughttobemagazine.com/2019/ ... --VrRJ4-Z4 They have over a thousand followers on their Facebook page, I think that's more than any of the other magazines that have posted my stuff. It only got 7 likes, though.

There are these two people that I run into most times when I go out drinking. They are always bar hopping in the neighborhood. They both buy me drinks every time I see them, even though I rarely reciprocate. It's not that I'm a cheap ingrate, it's just that I rarely get a chance to buy one in return because they are usually up and gone to the next bar before I can buy one. But they certainly notice that I rarely reciprocate, they must mention it to each other. Why do they keep doing it? It's at the point now that I silently groan when the bartender slides a marker or a token at me, telling me that one or the other of them has bought me a drink.

And now it's time to pour that first drink and get everything back to good. No people, no bartenders, no stupid conversation raging on all around me. Just me, the booze, a sofa to sit upon, a wall to stare at. I don't even think I have the energy to write a fucking thing tonight after all the hell I put myself through yesterday.
Remember, as long as your writing, producing and publishing, you're moving forward. You drink and you write. That's you're process, nothing to be ashamed of.
"Fuck you mean I'm drunk muddafugger?!?!" - Richard Pryor

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Re: Another Solo Mission

Post by mistah willies »

oettinger wrote:
Sun Sep 01, 2019 11:08 am
Notebooks are fun to read. I don`t have any but it`s still fun to dissect my mind from years ago when I flick through old drawings.
True.

Me neither.
All I have are things I've hidden away on a dark corner of the internet for meself, simply because hard drives fail, computers get drunk, and for now, the ethernet appears to be ethernal.

Here's some old shit I wrote, and it's still there, waiting for me to continue. It's simply that I'm much older now, and don't have time for flowery prose.

Have at it, here it is for your amusement. *hiccup*





The trees erupted with bright colors of sunset; a final hurrah before the black and white death of winter. Angry steel-grey clouds glared down at us. They pushed us to get things done. we lived at the behest of our local environment, and that is the best way to go about doing anything.

Once properly founded, a structure must be clad and then adorned. There is truly only one way to do this. You know how to do this for yourself, don't you? If you haven't yet discovered this, then no worries. You will find it out for yourself.

Trust.

I was always the last one to hush all of the oil lamps. I always stayed up late in the creaking hill-side house reading or attempting to scribble or jot or draw on fair paper.

(Good, heavy stock paper would appear years away, as well as a favorite pen. Never erase nor delete anything. It might come in handy later. As for hoarding; chuck extra weight so that you are a light traveler. You have many places to discover, many foods and drinks to savor, and you need to deal with what is hanging onto before you walk with a focused, intentional step. Try to see the world through your own eyes instead of staggering about with your cell-screen in front of your face. You might miss things. What you bring with you simply must be the ocean glass, the books and the writings and the images of what it means to be you.)

The rattling from the window pane next to my bed awoke me. I looked out and saw my wide-eyed reflection, and it jumped me. I grabbed my book that was written about a wrinkle in time and closed it. I set it next to the oil lamp and hushed the light.

(This is done by cupping your hand near the top part of the other side of the glass chimney and saying, "HA." Be mindful to never spit on a hot glass oil lamp chimney. It will explode into shards. Take care of yourself and others whom you hold dear in such a manner.)

My eyes adjusted to the night. I looked out across the bay down beyond the bluffs and the hill below my window. The ocean tossed and roiled with steam like it is before you throw pasta in a pot.

The moon above shined from within her a black cloak of winking glints of forgotten memories and important things to write down.

Those angry clouds grumbled and flashed their fangs from the edge of the world across the boiling bay like white knuckled fists.

Down the slope, I saw the mist from the bay coil up into shapes. Gusts of the approaching storm blew those shapes up the hill.

I saw this, I swear to you. It looked like an army of ghosts on horseback in full charge.

Why did I want have my bed against this window? What had I been thinking?

The fog-horses galloped up the hill with white figures atop, and they rode to my window. The moon winked out of view, covered in her soft black shroud.

I saw skeletal faces flash in my window.

It was too much.

I was not a man.

Not yet.

The windows rattled and the light was out and I helplessly listened to the stampede from beneath my knitted afghan all night long.

In the howling wind, the clanking window panes, thunder and flashes of might, no one could hear the sounds I made.

No one...



---willies out.

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Sammy
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Re: Another Solo Mission

Post by Sammy »

Every day. Solo. Every day. Solo. I should get a fucking dog but I don't want the Vet bills.

So every day. Solo.

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Re: Another Solo Mission

Post by Rye and Coke »

Sammy wrote:
Wed Sep 04, 2019 8:30 pm
Every day. Solo. Every day. Solo. I should get a fucking dog but I don't want the Vet bills.

So every day. Solo.
Why did I read this like it was a song?

"Every day. Solo. Every day. Solo
vodka with lemon & some ice, watch me go, go"
"Fuck you mean I'm drunk muddafugger?!?!" - Richard Pryor

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Re: Another Solo Mission

Post by oettinger »

Rye and Coke wrote:
Wed Sep 04, 2019 10:24 pm


Why did I read this like it was a song?

"Every day. Solo. Every day. Solo
vodka with lemon & some ice, watch me go, go"
Seems like a touch, a touch too much
That post gets an F
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Re: Another Solo Mission

Post by Rye and Coke »

oettinger wrote:
Fri Sep 06, 2019 2:36 pm
Rye and Coke wrote:
Wed Sep 04, 2019 10:24 pm


Why did I read this like it was a song?

"Every day. Solo. Every day. Solo
vodka with lemon & some ice, watch me go, go"
Seems like a touch, a touch too much
I have a strict, no-delete policy for online posting. If I was man enough to say, I should be man enough to stand by it.


That being said....I really wish I could delete that drunken nonsense...
"Fuck you mean I'm drunk muddafugger?!?!" - Richard Pryor

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oettinger
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Re: Another Solo Mission

Post by oettinger »

Pfffffffffffffffff

do you think I became a powerless mod by posting air? Now Soldier: move your ass to skype!
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Sammy
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Re: Another Solo Mission

Post by Sammy »

You stupid Kraut. You can't even skype on time.

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oettinger
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Re: Another Solo Mission

Post by oettinger »

Sammy wrote:
Fri Sep 06, 2019 10:51 pm
You stupid Kraut. You can't even skype on time.
Consultation hour is between 2 and 3 a.m. central europe time
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Re: Another Solo Mission

Post by Hugh »

Saturday night - home alone - first glass of wine poured. It's 8:30, a later than usual start for me. Most of the day was lost to hangover recovery. And of course the next-day guilt of drinking in a bar. But now I'm freshly showered with all clean clothes on, including my pants. I had sweated profusely for days in the pants I was wearing earlier. A clean body and clean clothes helps put one in a good mood, creating good conditions for a pleasant drunk later in the night.

Willies! I once wrote upon a Post-It Note "Write your poems and stories as if they were Facebook posts." and I stuck it on the wall above my desk. Often my Facebook friends, especially those from work after they'd read a post of mine, would tell me what a good writer I am. I noticed it usually happened after some witty off-hand post I'd made. A post I'd made without caring if I impressed anyone. So from then on I never wrote a paragraph again about sunsets, trees, broken hearts, or grass. Or cows in a field. Or rain. (I did write a poem about singing birds, but I made an exception because I was interpreting what they were singing about.) I believe that agents, editors, and publishers groan when they see a writer trying to be descriptive because the descriptions are all cliche now. There's a poetry mag called Rattle, and their editor does a Critique of the Week where he takes poems that have been submitted to him and critiques them as if he were running a writing class. He does it in a live Facebook video. Rattle is kind of a big deal, they have about 6000 paid subscribers to their print magazine and they have over 20,000 Facebook followers. One of the things he hits on often is cliche. Words and phrases that need to be avoided. These pastoral descriptions are the first thing writers need to banish. There seems to be no place for them anymore. Of course, there'll always be good writers that will come along and write stunningly good prose or poetry about a subject that is cliche. But I figure I'm putting myself on the side of the angels if I just avoid it.

A couple of weeks ago at my favorite dive bar I propositioned a man who was sitting alone at a table. It's always been my policy to NEVER proposition men in bars, and it was always easy to stick with it in my younger years because I was always the one being propositioned. Lately I've been breaking my own rule, but fortunately it hasn't caused me any trouble yet. I've seen this man there a couple of times since then, he's always by himself even though he knows a couple of people who drink there. He hasn't told them that I propositioned him, of that I'm pretty sure, but he is taking pains to avoid me, such as when he walked by last night and I tried to smile and say hi. I don't think I should apologize for doing it, it's probably better just to let it go. He didn't seem angry at the time, but maybe he is now. He's an older guy and a loner. I'm sure he's there to get laid, but I think he is also there just to be in company of people, like most bargoers are. I hope I haven't made it uncomfortable for him to be there. I really have a knack for doing and saying the wrong things when I go to bars. I don't want to ruin anybody else's good time. I hope I haven't ruined his.

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Re: Another Solo Mission

Post by Stendhal »

Does drinking after you get home from the bar count as a solo mission? Drinking Dewars and Evan Williams, bartender had weak pours, need to rectify that situation

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Re: Another Solo Mission

Post by Hugh »

Stendhal wrote:
Sun Sep 08, 2019 1:54 am
Does drinking after you get home from the bar count as a solo mission? Drinking Dewars and Evan Williams, bartender had weak pours, need to rectify that situation
Yeah it does. Otherwise you would be sitting there on that goddamb barstool hoping to hook up with some goddamb body as the lights come on after last call. You'll just hate them tomorrow if you drag them home tonight. This way, going home by yourself, you have spared yourself the agony of human company that you thought you wanted, but really didn't. You finished the night with your true love - Dewars and Evan Williams.

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Re: Another Solo Mission

Post by Sammy »

I guess most people who go to a bar alone are hoping they'll get to meet somebody interesting. That rarely happens to me anymore. Last time I went to a bar some old Dude starting bragging to me about being an ex-marine and then started to whine about how his daughter won't talk to him anymore and he's cut her out of his will etc, etc. I guess he got the "I don't give a fuck" vibe I was giving off when I let him ramble on for 15 minutes while I pretended to watch TV without saying a word. Then, when I went to leave the guy is shaking my hand and telling me how happy he was to meet me. Yeah, right. I wish the feeling was mutual.

Well, a couple of friends are coming over today to watch football with me, so at least I'll have somebody to talk to that won't bore me to death.

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Re: Another Solo Mission

Post by scream ale »

Rye and Coke wrote:
Wed Sep 04, 2019 10:24 pm
I have a strict, no-delete policy for online posting. If I was man enough to say, I should be man enough to stand by it.
That being said....I really wish I could delete that drunken nonsense...
The only deleting I do is when the interweb fucks up and posts my bullshit twice. Why other people delete their posts for different reasons is beyond me. My posts are a testament to my epic idiocy, may they stand forever. Or at least until the interweb is finally no more.
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Re: Another Solo Mission

Post by oettinger »

Hugh:
I go to bars because they have stuff on stock my homebar does`t. And they serve you.

Sammy:
The worst guy I met in a bar was a regular in my dive. He considered me a friend. He would get drunk and bitch about his life, spitting in my face while drunk talking. One day he grabbed my cowboy hat and put it on. That was fucked up!
There were many fucks like that. One guy had that bad of mouth-breath you thought he just threw up. He claimed to own a restaurant. In fact he wasn`t even the chef, just a random cook. But he always wore a suit and drank into the wee hours
That post gets an F
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