Every time I lay down for an extended period of time, I am cruelly awoken to the fact that I do not have the balance and coordination that I do for the rest of the day.  Stumbling aimlessly through a battlefield of dirty clothes, camera equipment, books, cds and various other things that have been strewn about my wreck of a room. This morning, or early evening as it was, was much worse.  My dad had always told me to take an Advil and drink lots of water right before you pass out, and I trust him on matters like this, for he is an experienced drunk, but last night I was not capable of taking my pants off, much less remembering these strange rituals my dad would have me carry out.   In retrospect I should have trusted him.  I am not the experienced drunk he is. 

You see, last night was New Years Eve.  I had made it through 20 past New Years celebration with out so much as a sip of champagne, but this year was different.   15 shots seem like a lot for someone who doesn’t drink.  I don’t even know how I got them all down.  I woke up this morning feeling quite under the weather.  My friend Andy called me around noon asking me to come to his house and clean up my vomit, I simply told the rat bastard to burn in hell and laid back down.  Moments later I was in the bathroom, leaving more of my insides to be cleaned up at a later date.  It was not a pleasant sight. 

I also woke up with cuts and bruises all over my body.  I can remember quite a few instances where these cuts and bruises would have occurred.  The most likely was when I was stomped quite severely for throwing a bottle of liquor out of 5-story hotel room.  I was actually tackled as I ran towards the window, but I remembered my high school football days and got out of that with a quick stiff arm.  For some strange reason, the person who rented the hotel had a problem with me stealing a light from the hall and tossing it out the window, so I grabbled a bottle and made my second attempt.  After hearing one of the most glorious sounds I have ever heard, the breaking of glass, I was immediately thrown to the ground and kicked and stepped on and generally abused.  I would have fought back, but I couldn’t really stand up and I was too busy laughing to care about the beating.

20 minutes later I got kicked out of another hotel party and had to make my way to Andy’s house.  Parties at Andy’s house are my favorite sorts of parties.  This is because Andy is a serious abuser of everything.  He is usually so wasted at his parties that he doesn’t care when we break things, or invite strange people in off the street.  On arriving at his house I jumped out of a moving car crashing head first into his porch.  At Andy’s I got into a few more altercations.  I am not so good when it comes to controlling what I say sober, and being drunk makes it much much worse.  I kicked one guy in the chest, talked to some guy about fucking his cousin, got choked by someone I can’t remember, got called a pervert and a smut peddler for writing for Stile Project by a guy I have never met and lastly I threw a shoe through a screen porch.  It was an interesting evening.

I’m gonna throw up, remind me never to drink again.