Toxic

Right now, for once, I do not know what I’ll be writing about. But after three sticks of DJ Mix and what must have been 10 tall glasses of scotch and wine running down after an unbelievable amount of food variety I do not normally eat, the brain is somehow alive and itching to spill over. Rather than throw up, let me just give writing a try.

Was it Ernest Hemingway who was reputed to have been unable to write when not drunk? I know too of many a writer who use cigarette smoke as a screen for visions of nonsense and recycled inspirations.

I think though writing while intoxicated has merit. For then, you do not have to hide behind the curtain of propriety. Your conscience is asleep and the juices of truth and creativity flow, though without sense, with spunk and purpose.

Last night, I saw fireworks along the highway of oh-puhleezz-not-again Mandaue City. While beautiful in its complicated glory, it brings back the stench of days gone by. My mind floats for a while to a harbor unvisited in sobriety.

It is rare for one to acknowledge disgust for another being. Or to entertain the green-eyed monster with chips and a bottle of wine. But with the crutches we use to dilute the embarrassing habits we never quite learn to curtail after decades of etiquette lessons, anything becomes possible.

I have low tolerance for people who profess to be something they’re not. I am tired too of the games we use to hide our true intentions. I am frustrated about lost opportunities and constant changes. But I find I am open to new beginnings, surprises, and gradual connections.

There is something to be said about the continuity of old relationships. Though not nurtured the way we want to, some things grow to a respectable degree we never quite expect. There is something to be said about the way one overcomes petty differences to forge something real and substantial. Not everyone finds a friend in the clinks of shared glasses of mixed spirits.

It’s 4:00 AM, so I’ll let the rambling stop. My world still spins and flies as I try to make this piece stand still in time.

I have a feeling this more than 2,000-character document doesn’t make much sense. Sigh, so what’s new? Sober or not, few people get me anyway.