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  \ /      "Ah, To Be a Drunk Someday Soon"       `.              ,  \ \ /  |
   Y--------                             ----------/`.          ,'-`----Y   |
  /                 by The Corpse                 (            ; mEoW!@/|   '
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   |____________________ Anada is cat-friendly! __)  |__\  `.___________|/
                                                  `--'   `--'

        It's not really a goal, but it's certainly a nebulous dream of mine,
 to be a drunk someday.

        Yeah, it sounds bad.  It sounds downright fucking awful.  But I want
 to be a drunk.  I want an excuse for failure, a reason for being a genius, a
 rationale for being poor, a means to being stereotyped.  I want to be a
 barfly, a whiskey- and beer-swilling lout who's no good for a fucking thing
 except for dropping quarters into the jukebox and spending enough money to
 keep the bartender's kids alive.  I want to be that pathetic bastard who
 threw away a chance at being something in favor of drinking and acting like
 a goddamned idiot at least five nights a week.

        I love to drink.  On mornings when I wake up feeling like someone
 shat in my chest and pissed out six pints of Murphy's Amber into my
 brainpan, I wonder about my amorous affair with spirits, but then I have
 nights like this, when I drink half a bottle of Powers whiskey and love
 every minute of it.  Alcohol is God's gift to man, the tool by which humans
 escape their troubles only to create a dozen more of them, and who am I to
 turn down a gift from the Almighty? (Whether or not I believe in God is
 beside the point here, you bastards.  It's a matter of boozehound rhetoric.)

        I was drinking pretty seriously even before I could do so legally.
 My friends always laughed about me being the most liquor-infused of the
 crew, and in most cases, they were right.  Now and then, it bothered me that
 everyone half-expected me to be drunk when they stopped by my apartment, but
 most of the time it didn't, because people respected me despite my passion
 for alcohol in almost all of its forms.  My drinking was only an added bonus
 to my usual quasi-intellectual rantings and ravings.

        On top of my natural affection for drink, I'm a writer, and everyone
 knows that all the good writers out there are fond of alcohol and/or drugs,
 and/or are insane.  I too know this, and admittedly it has something to do
 with my attitude towards drinking.  I don't think I'd be a bad writer if I
 didn't drink, but I will say that drinking definitely makes things easier at
 times.  It can inhibit my spelling skills, though.  I'm sure there's at
 least one typo in this textfile, since I'm writing it under the effects of
 several glasses of Powers whiskey.

        Back to the main issue, I honestly do desire to be a drunk at some
 point.  It'll explain all my successes and failures, give me something to do
 with my free time besides write and read, and force me to quit the job I
 hate so much.  It'll keep me up late, make me sleep in late, and so on.
 It'll make me more like Charles Bukowski, though I don't know if that's
 necessarily a good thing.  It'll reflect my Celtic heritage.  At the basest
 level, it'll be me being me.  I reckon that's what the most important thing
 is.

        On that remarkably stupid note, I'm going to pour myself a couple
 more fingers of whiskey and work on my novel.

 /\___/\ ____________________________________________________________ /\___/\
 \ -.- /                                                              \ -.- /
 `-.^.-' (c) 2001 Anada e'zine                          by The Corpse `-.^.-'
   /"\ ________________________________________________________________ /"\