Brave New Whirled

admin — Fri, 25 Mar 2005 09:12:06 +0000

So I wanted to have a beer last night, not a PBR which I had in my fridge, but a real beer that I could sink my proverbial teeth into, so I decided to walk on down to the Crow Bar because, shockingly, I knew that they sold such things. However, I wasn’t in a particularly brooding mood. See, usually, going down to the Crow Bar solo meant that I would sit at the bar, alternately staring at the beer in front of me, staring at the mirrored wall behind the bar, and staring at my pack of cigarettes, with the occasional furtive glance around at the other patrons to see if there were any attractive women who might take notice of this sort of oh-so-rogueish behaviour, take some amount of pity/intrigue and come and talk to me, while at the same time not really wanting to talk to anyone anyway. You know, brooding. Anyway, as I said, I wasn’t really in the brooding mood last night. So I decided to take a book with me to keep me company. The book I chose was “Brave New World” by Aldous Huxley. The last time I read it was in High School, and in reading the opening passages last night, I tried to remember what it was like reading it the first time around. I remembered that I’d enjoyed it greatly, but I wondered if I’d really gotten all the subtext as it relates to history as well as modern times, when I’d read it back in my late teens. Anyway, still a great book and immensely entertaining, although it was a bit of a strange read in that particular environment. Felt so pseudo-intellectual.

Later on I had a fascinating conversation about politics, romance and civil engineering with a man with an eyepatch from Louisiana. Oh, and the beer was excellent.

I was hungover. A LOT.

admin — Thu, 24 Feb 2005 18:29:28 +0000

I was amazed, I mean uh-MAZED at how DRUNK I was Saturday night. My god. I seriously can’t remember the last time I was so inebriated that I couldn’t put together full sentences. At least it felt like I couldn’t put together full sentences, or at least coherent thoughts, on the drive home. Krissy, thanks for driving, by the way. I think that last T&T was still working it’s way through my veins even after you dropped me off, as I went inside the house and sat on the couch with S, A and D, and just seemed to get drunker… and drunkerer… and completely non-functional socially. S said I’m a scary-looking very drunk person. Apparently, I just go white as a sheet and all pasty looking. Ew. At one point I told everyone that I was going to go upstairs to see how the bathroom was doing. Y’know, just check it out. Didn’t even make it there, just went into my room and passed out on the bed. Woke up in the morning, fully clothed with a blanket thrown over me, on my side. Apparently, at some point, S had come in and rolled me over just to make sure I didn’t puke in my sleep and die. I didn’t think I was that bad, as I didn’t recall having the spins as I lay down, but still, that was awfully nice of her. She’s a good sport, she is.

I’ve come to a new theory about something: The Sandy Hut is BAD NEWS. There should be an “enter at your own risk” sign on that place. Now on, if I go there, I’m sticking to PBR. Fuckin-A.

Amphibious » Drinking

Brave New Whirled

I was hungover. A LOT.