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.
"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"