jmoiron.net

I don't keep track of what happens in my life as it happens; I'm not that smart. Instead, I rely on a short term memory which was once sharp, and has dulled through frequent, deep, and violent hacking through conciousness. I try to capture some event or feeling in details, and only when it strikes me as important. Of the 171 prior times I decided to hit submit for the first time, I'd say about 150 times were worth it, and about 10 were actually thought out. None of those times did I feel it necessary to tiptoe around an issue because it could effect others, but everything falls apart eventually.

I write in a stream of conciousness style which comes from my laziness and lends itself to abhorrent verbiage and poor pacing. Its not that I don't respect you, trapsing through whatever twisted scrawling I came up with less than a second ago; I mean, I could do it too, they are my words, but I just can't for the life of me see why anyone would want to. That's my other style, by the way: self deprecation.

I think my brain is working properly again. It hadn't worked since saturday.

My brain hadn't worked since saturday, and my writing style has been proven woefully inadequate to relay any information, let alone a story pertaining to my life, and definitely pertaining to other peoples'. The last thing I remember in my characteristic detail is the snap my high E string made on saturday, which of course prompted me to hit up the library in town and then come back to Hoboken. I asked for the lightest gauge strings that they had, and then snapped a .09mm piece of magnesium something or other by ironically releasing tension. I think I'm feeling better now.

Without further ado, what I can remember and what I should recall:

Salman Rushdie's "Midnight's Children" is amazing on the level of a life changing experience; told in a detail that my gushing, babbling brain wishes it could emulate. I yearn to be able to string together elegant chains of minutiae in a similar fashion, to give you delicate glimpses that slowly crescendo into massive epiphanies.

On sunday, I had planned reading all day, not for lack of desire to do otherwise but from lack of any reason to. Unexpectedly (because I don't read other peoples blogs much, either), Maydrea was in town. I asked her what she was doing for lunch, but then realized I wasn't hungry and spent the rest of the day reading. Her and Omlette came over, we got some JD & Soco, and caught up on things. And got trashed off of what seemed like too little alcohol.

I was hung over on monday, and still kinda drunk when I "woke up" after not getting any sleep. When I got to work I was still a little ... bad. Luckily, my boss and co-workers found it more amusing than anything, and I went home at 12:00 to get some sleep.

Nausea is a funny thing, and when combined with confusion, paranoia, and dehydration, its even funnier. Monday passed by like a dream that was only mildly discomforting, and thankfully I maintained my no-vomit record (which is official now). While I had eaten a normal meal Sunday night (Omlette and Maydrea arrived during the cooking of it), I didn't eat anything Monday, which would soon come to be normal. The sleep I got Monday was fleeting and un-sleep like; 20 minutes or so every 2 or 3 hours, for about 18 hours. I "woke up" refreshed on Tuesday, and decided that work would be a good idea.

I was still, at this point, contemplating putting in 40 hours this week, so I was going to stay pretty late, but around 5:00 I started to feel a little sick (probably from not eating in 40 hours) and decided to go home. During a conversation at work I discovered some dirt Amit would be interested in, so I decided to hit up the visualization lab on my way out. He called Maydrea and tried to work out some dinner or something, I said "cool", and then walked home and made myself some rice. She was working til late, and didn't ring until about 10:00, and Amit wouldn't go with me to the city. Spent much of the evening at a bar catching up on 3 years with Drea, and hit the sack 2 hours before work on Wednesday.

I ran on empty on Wednesday, since I had only rice and alcohol in me since Sunday, and decided to grab a slice of pizza, which was sufficient for the whole day. Passed out around 5:00, but woke up at 9:30. I was completely fucked from 3 days of not eating and needed some kind of fluids, so I walked to bagels and celled Maydrea on the way, and asked her what was on the menu for her last evening up north. She unsurprisingly wanted to hang out, so I went to Christopher again and met her friend Heather, who was awesome (and slightly drunk), and sat and talked until way too late at a cafe.

I got 15 minutes of sleep when Hieu walked in and told me I should wake up and graduate, and in an irony which is telling of which details I actually gave a shit about this week, I'll describe graduation simply as "fine". They didn't inadvertantly call me a moron, although a man named "Dick" and "Dong" both graduated and made me feel much better about myself. And some guy fell down on purpose.

To summarize:

In the past few days, I got extremely stinkingly intoxicated, completely and utterly confused, and most of all thoroughly surprised multiple, multiple times. I learned 6 months late of a cancelled wedding and embarrased myself thoroughly in the process. I heard innumerable stories of pain and anguish over a meal of smiles, laughs, and giggles. I had a slice of pizza and a small ammount of rice in 3 days, besides a few glasses of sinking bubbles and distilled grain spirits. I graduated college and am now officially a man of science. I'm sitting on a modest pile of money I didn't previously have. At work, in order to pee, I have to ring a doorbell. And a porkchop called me a slutbag.

I swear though, I'm better now.