5 November 2012
I give excellent advice. I do so from ignorance via empathy. On a whole it works out nicely, friends ask discreetly and I respond in kind. There is one notable exception to this rule when Jekyll becomes Hyde...alcohol... As worthy the advice is that I give sober, my advice when drunk is baffling in its feculant shitness. As of last night there is photographic evidence of this. It features a friend of mine wearing the drink he had just downed as a hat with me at his side wearing a grin of fatherly pride and accomplishment. I am sure there was a 'why' though the answer was likely 'because.'
I can only apologise and blame misfiring shyness. Some think shy people are shirking violets, wallflowers and saints. This is not the case, at least for me. Alcohol has the unfortunate tendency to open a door best left ajar. It is ajar for a reason! My shyness is functional not a social disfunction. It exists to protect people from the unplumbed depths of my weird (a clever play on words alluding to the 'wyrd' a type off terrifying forest).
In the outer-fringes of my weird, drinks make fetching headgear...apparently... I prefer not venturing or indeed questioning what goes on in there. No, much better to leave it to grow in power and depravity so it can be unleashed in thirty years time in a single catastrophic episode, leaving me a gibbering loon of a recluse with a growing collection of toe-nail clippings.
Anyway, long story short, I wake this morning with a splitting headache and wine all over my white trousers. All I can think is: "let's be honest, you deserved that."
The Red Wine-White Trousers Penance • Opuss № I