maandag 9 juli 2007
coherency is secondary
I consumed 2 liters (roughly 4 pints) of beer in about 4.5 hours this evening, 3/4 of which was a dark beer, and thus stronger. I'm still rather buzzed, an hour plus after the last drink, so forgive me if I don't make complete sense. I just wanted to get this down while I'm still in this state of mind so that tomorrow I can look at it and see what a dumbass I am and delete it.Today is one of those days. One of those days that is relatively rare for me. One of those days where I actually say "Germany kicks my sorry ass."Tonight we had a company Stammtisch. Basically, a night out with people from the company, which, in proper German style, consists of a meal and beer. German beer. Strong German beer in what is, for skinny me, large quantities.And I had a damn good time. Sure, I don't understand every word that kisses my eardrums, but it doesn't matter. I magically get the gist of everything, and I can actually laugh along with all the jokes. Okay, there are a few jokes that I don't get, but it doesn't matter because I can just laugh at the last joke that I understood, which is still singing in my ears, while everyone laughs at the latest crack.And I realized, I need more of this. I need more outright laughter, even if it is totally stupid and incoherent and someone mistakes what I say and thinks that I meant that I was gay, when all I really meant to say was that I am boring and never go anywhere outside of work. What the fuck do I care, because my head is the size of Wisconson and weighs 3 ounces and everyone is having a good time, including me, which is not all that common.Yeah, needing alcohol to have a good time is terrible, but as one of those people who is so terribly uptight in normal, everyday life, sometimes it's that little extra thing. That thing which makes everything come together, and the self-consciousness go away, and the laughter spew forth with so much vengeance that I wonder how I have lived here so long and only done this a handful of times.Anyway, like I said, tomorrow I will be sober and my normal, boring self again and I will look at this and say what a retard I am, not only for reveling in the effects of artificial jubilation, but also for taking the time to write about it here, and in the process taking extra special care to spell everything (more or less) correctly so that I can look at least slightly intelligent even while everything is still rather fuzzy.Of course, this will actually change nothing.In other, less betrunken news, my DSL modem arrived today, but since I wasn't here (you know, that damned work thing) it was delivered to the dentist downstairs. Now, in my less-than-rational state, I think about how I will go downstairs tomorrow and ask them for it with no problems. Tomorrow, though, I will go down there and worry about saying the wrong damned word or looking like an idiot in some way. I will worry stupidly. I will be stupid.
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I can relate on quite a few levels, but I will relate one little thing.We were having a party and I wasn't drinking. I went upstairs for something and on the way back down I heard someone in the kitchen saying, "Why isn't Will drinking? He's fun when he's drinking."Which of course implies that when I'm not, I'm not. But yeah, fuck that noise. I liked you just fine sober.
2 Liters? See, the fact that you drank that amount of bier is not nearly as interesting to me as the proof you provided that the rest of the world is still needlessly holding onto the metric system! When, when, el mundo, will you see the error of your ways and adopt the standard American forms of measurement? Christ almighty. I mean, it's so easy, an inch is about|-----------| that big! try that with a centimeter. crap.first of all, you should really write more. I enjoy all that you write, and it's nice to see you typing. and i'm constantly impressed with your prose in general. nice sentencery. more nice, though, is to hear that you were having a splendid-ass time. good people deserve good times. as for the drinking, let us turn to the gospel according to Blake. In the song West Bay Invitational, Blake states: "Chris got a pony keg of Loose Charm." Well, looking past the whole "Chris" thing, i think "loose charm" is a nice way of putting it. The reality is that a lot of people are shy, nervous, vaguely unhappy, a lot of the time, and alcohol is just nature's happy juice. (That felt like a Homer Simpsonism...must be that BEAN i ate.) I see it like this: social interaction and fun-having is an experience like any other, and sometimes it takes a push to get in the right direction. It's like being afraid of the high-dive. Won't jump, won't jump, won't jump - but then your older brother pushes you off and you go - "Hey, that was fun!" and run back up. Think of alcohol like the older brother you never had, he's just giving you that nudge, and eventually you won't need him to push you off anymore. Ich möchte ein Modem und eine Zahnextraktion bitte
okay, that inch was bigger on the input screen.(Das ist, was SIE sagte)HAHAHAHA!! eh.
Hey, thanks.Well, I can't honestly say that I'm more fun if I'm drinking, only that I tend to have more fun, at least when I'm in large groups, that is.Apropos people's opinions of you when you drink, people joke in the office here that I only speak German when I'm drinking, which is only a half-lie. It's certainly true, though, that wetting (whetting?) the whistle also loosens the tongue.
Funny thing is, the American standard measurements came from England, but England has adopted the metric system now. Of course, you should be well aware of how much 2 liters is, since you can buy all kinds of soft drinks in that volume.Highdives and highdivers:I've always enjoyed the high dive. In fact, I was jumping off of that thing at a young age, all the way back to first or second grade, when I would go to the public pool in the summer.In highschool, being on the swim and polo teams, I had ready access to this wonderful aquatic device. However, unlike those summers of youth where I would jump a handfull of times during a three month period and then have the other nine in which to let the thrill factor regenerate, I got so used to jumping off that diving board that my natural reluctancy to stand on high platforms in speedos wore down. Jumping off was nothing. Sure it was fun, but the thrill no longer satisfied. It was no longer enough. I needed more.So, I got it in my head that I was going to dive. Even better, it was during a fun obstacle course competition we had at the end of swim season. And as I got up on the board and was hurrying towards the bouncing edge, I took a wrong step. And then a wrong bounce. And I made the worst dive in my short career.As I plunged towards the water, head first, in what was basically the fetal position, I knew I had taken on too much.And I was right.When my head hit the water, the force bent it down, body-relative, towards my chest, and I heard a most lovely crunch. The crunch of my nose hitting my knee.And then I felt it.As I climbed out of the water, nose bleeding terribly, I looked at my teammates and saw the looks. They knew, too. My desire for the thrill had ended in tragedy.Well, if you consider a slightly crooked nose tragedy. And as a southern Californian, you should.Anyway, I think the point of all that smarm got lost along the way. Not that I'm totally sure I had a point to begin with. But damnit, anytime someone brings up diving boards I have to drag it out.
Let's start a band called Zahnextraktion, we could wear black and play keyboards with neck/shoulder straps, and do German-language industrialized covers of Paula Abdul cuts. Schlange mit einem kalten InnerenYour diving story is interesting. I had never heard it. Did you break your nose? It's odd to me that you could have broken your nose and I would have never known about it. Anyway...I think in some way you may have been trying to illustrate the idea that, along the lines of chemical usage, you kept getting further and further along with your diving habits, until eventually you flew too close to the sun. However, I think we're getting our metaphors turned around. If I am to read your story on a metaphorical level, which I am (even if it was not intended as such), the "act of high diving" itself was your drug of choice. You see, so if you view essentially falling off a diving board as a gateway drug, like Twizzlers, and the diving is heroin -- or in the instance of alcohol use, a few beers turns into stashing a fifth in your drawer at work. However, I think for my purposes that your story actually helps my example. You see, in my metaphor, it was the process of actually making the jump, the diving, that was analgous with social interaction. So, in the way that you were able to get over your speedo-wearing and climb up on the board, given time you will also find it easier to exist in social settings. So, while it may have taken some meandering in the pool, and a rushed trip to the board to first take that step, as you said, eventually you were ableo to just run up an hop off, and won't need to do any self-convincing (alcohol). So, the danger we run into is taking on way more social interaction than you can handle, and collapsing after hanging out and partying with people for 97 straight hours. at any rate, i highly doubt that alcoholism is a concern of yours, mostly because I know that it would actually be a concern of yours. an interesting aspect of the whole alcholism thing is that it's generally considered "appropriate" to live without affects of a chemical. in the natural state. i wonder what it would "feel" like to be a human 2-3000 years ago, before so many generations of consuming all sorts of chemicals, even if it's just mayonaisse, it ain't exactly natural. speaking of which, i really need some caffeine.
Yeah, I broke my nose. The very tip. I'm also surprised that you wouldn't have heard about it. It was junior year, around May 1994.When it happened, I didn't really think I broke it, despite the crunch sound I heard, because while it was rather tender, it did not hurt like I thought a broken nose should. So I just went home.When my mom got home from work (6 or so hours later), she's like "What the hell happened to you!? Why didn't you go to the hospital?!" So I went to the hospital, where they took an X-ray of my entire head (which was kinda cool to look at) and told me that the very tip of my nose was broken, and that if I wanted, they would re-set it for me. In other words, I could have had a free nose job. But I didn't really want to have my nose rebroken, so I passed.As for alcoholism, I have no real concern in that area. I don't indulge much, and I'm well aware of my limits. What I drank the other night was about it. I walked home just fine, no stumbling involved at all, but I was at the point where it is hard to focus on things. And I almost never get that way. I think the last time I did was new years before last at yours and Shasta's place.
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