Laundry done, errands run, apartment cleaned. Even cooked a meal for myself. Getting things done is a sure fire way to lift you out of depression. I've got a couple of injuries that have gotten bad enough that they are slowing me down at work to the point that other people are noticing. I'm usually the first loader done with his share, but this week I've been finishing almost last. It had me so bummed out I didn't even drink at all last night. But now I'm ready to pour the wine and get fucked up.
Starting drinking an hour early, since we have to move our clocks forward an hour this weekend.
We do? Do we lose an hour this weekend?
*checks*
Fuck, I had no idea! And tomorrow's St. Patrick's Day? Oh, the hangovers are going to be monstrous!
I woke up delirious and groggy from a night of drinking. Showered, freshened up and got my ass to work. I fell asleep on the train and rode it all the way to the end of the line, which was hilarious. But I woke up and hopped on the opposite track, back to my stop where my job is a quick walk from the station. Quick cup of coffee and I was fine. I should've gone to lunch and had a few cocktails just to even myself out. Instead, I went to the gym to sweat the remnants of the previous night from my body.
I think I'm going to turn in early tonight, there's a fight I want to see tomorrow and they show them at the bars around here. I'll make a night of it, go out drinking, watch a fight and throw up a middle finger to Daylight Savings.
"They told me to see the glass half full cause some see it as half empty
I chose to see the glass twice the size it needed to be" - Pharoahe Monch, 'Broken Again'
Earlier this year I began submitting my writing to lit mags with a little higher brow. And now the rejects are pouring in. They all say the same thing, how much they enjoyed reading my shit and they encourage me to submit again in the future. I'd really rather they just tell me to take my illiterate ass and hit the fucking road and never come back. (I actually did get a reject a couple of years ago from an agency that said my novel didn't meet their standards of story or writing. At least I know they really read it before telling me to get lost.)
But on the other hand I had another poem post this morning, I got the notification at the same time I got the reject from the other place. I write a lot of poems about "Lonely Old Man" and some of them can be quite cruel, but this place accepted one of them. Here it is: https://ryethewhiskeyreview.blogspot.co ... Z-Lu7QOFm0
In one of Bukowski's letters when he was young, he said that he wondered if his submissions were just going out into some empty hole of machinery that spits out rejects. But then later as he got famous, he said he became what he used to resent when everything he sent out would be accepted anywhere he sent it. There's a couple of places out there that have accepted everything I've sent them, even the "zingers" I stick in there to see if they're really paying attention. They accept those, too. But I've got to keep setting my sites higher.
Hangovers seem a bit milder when you wake up in a freshly cleaned apartment.
They all say the same thing, how much they enjoyed reading my shit and they encourage me to submit again in the future
I think I got one in the mail too. Heads up, keep on going, carry on, not too shabby, fuck it why not, damn it who cares, yes I`m gonna do it, I`d kill myself if didn`t
"Old Man in a Straw Hat by Hugh Blanton." Hmm I like it, but please get more precise about the drunkeness
But on the other hand I had another poem post this morning, I got the notification at the same time I got the reject from the other place. I write a lot of poems about "Lonely Old Man" and some of them can be quite cruel, but this place accepted one of them. Here it is: https://ryethewhiskeyreview.blogspot.co ... Z-Lu7QOFm0
I really enjoyed this tight little tale. You have a terrific way of putting the reader right in the same room as your characters. Please keep it up.
Mrs Booze and I enjoyed a classic staycation this weekend. I took Friday off from work, so it was a nice three day weekend to accomplish the goal of behaving like we were out of town without actually traveling. To prepare, we stocked up on rum, vodka, gin, rye, and a decent selection of mixers, fruit and snacks.
Our friend, BRIAN! and his girlfriend joined us on Friday night and we all got shitty drunk while sitting on the patio. I'm sure our neighbors were pleased. By now, they have probably found the bottles and non-working bic lighters that were used in a game we invented called "let's throw a bunch of shit over the fence."
On Saturday, we called an Uber to deliver us to Ruby's, one of our favorite dives. We drank there until it was no longer a pleasure to serve us. We left and walked to another bar called Bobby Salazars. We decided to drink a couple pitchers of Margaritas.
Mrs Booze and BRIAN!'s gal were a little too toasty to carry on, so we returned home. The girls went to bed while BRIAN! and I continued our mission of drinking everything that was drinkable. He asked about AD, Oett, Nausea, Patchy, and Mrs Patchy. He told me to tell you hello. He also told me to say hi to Jack Ruby, so I don't think he knew what he was saying.
When I woke up this morning, I realized I did some fucking drunk time traveling as it's now an hour later than it should be.
Hello Brian,
I lost at darts again today, because I suck at it and I suck even worse when shitfaced.
Typing this takes me hours, I am drunk already.
AD wants to post some drunk golf videos later.
Cheers BRAIN and OHDEARBOOZE, fuck
Say hey to Brian from Mrz. Patchez and Patchez. That was at Frankie's that we accosted everyone coming through the door with a welcoming BRIAN! Wasn't it?
Now you're ready for some anti-dry-otics!-BeerMakesMeSmarter
If worms had daggers, birds wouldn't fuck with them-Todd Snider
Yep. That's it. And based on that interaction, the "BRIAN!" yelling has become a thing. When in any dark bar, when the door opens and casts a light into the dark room, we all yell "BRIAN!, even when we aren't expecting him.
^ ^ ^ And when he finally walked in, I ran up to him yelling "BRIAN!" and threw my arms around him to make it especially awkward as if he was supposed to know me. At least I was still wearing underwear.
ATTENTION DRUNKARDS! The recent posts that were going off-topic from this thread were moved here so let's carry on there in the WTF thread, shall we? Cheers!
I was supposed to meet up with my friend Adam for a beer, but he has "the flu." Better stay the FAQ away from him.
No worries, I've got WT101 and Laphroaig to drink at home.
Adam wants to meet up for beers but he' has an "infectious virus"? That's pretty admirable of him to still want to drink but the least he could do is wear a hazmat suit or something.
