Last Call

I want to quit but I find myself caught in a cycle of beer, bourbon, mai tai's, BT's and vicodin. Last Saturday was classic. It was agentofdischord's b-day. I figured I could squeak by, not show up, and no one would notice. That's about the time I was laying in bed with my flask of bourbon watching 'Where the Buffalo Roam". My phone rang. It was a friend calling me from the party asking where the fuck I was. Taking a slug of bourbon I told him I was laying in bed. Prior to the bed situation, I had consumed about 2 large sapporos. My buddy told me to get my ass over there. There was no way I could drive and I told him this. He came to my aid and said he would pick me up.

When I arrived, it was clear that I was going to drink steadily. Wasting no time, I gravitated toward the kitchen area, where I saw, in clear view, a bottle of Knob Creek. I was offered a newcastle. I asked if I could have some bourbon as well. The suggestion was encouraged. Taking a pull from the bottle I found that this was some delicious bourbon. I took another hit and set the bottle down, as not to be too rude and drink it all. The newcastle tasted good. From what I can remember I put down a few more beers, half a vicodin, more bourbon and god only knows what else. I was told that when I was dropped off at my home, that I was earnest about taking my friends for a spin in my 64 Corvair. I'm glad I didn't because I don't remember making that kind of offer.

Earlier this week, I had consumed a few vicodin due to another sports injury at the gym. Naturally, I washed it down with copious amounts of alcohol. When it came time to go to sleep, I kept getting this feeling that I wasn't going to wake up. The fear to sleep choked me like a silky scarf around my throat. For some reason I felt that I was going to die if I went to sleep. Usually I'll just pass out and not think about it. This time was different. As I lay there drifting off into unconsciousness, I would wake because my breathing would stop. It occured to me that death was there, waiting patiently. It was then that I said a prayer for myself because I do believe in the omnipresent life force and consciousness of the universe. I feel comfortable in acknowledging the grand architect of the infinite. Something told me to grab my grandfathers tattered old bible. I held it against my chest as I faded comfortably into unconsciousness.

My vicodin and alcohol consumption has been at record highs. I don't want to continue like this and I'm always looking for an excuse to quit completely. Quitting at the beginning of the week or a certain holiday or even when numbers are aligned in mystical sequences. Quitting was something that came easily when I lived on my own. But now all I am working toward is buying a house so I can be a recluse again. It's my only salvation at this point.

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"you start to drink you just want to continue
it'll all be yester year soon
you start to drink you just want to continue
it'll all be yester year soon"

-Elliott Smith