Sunday, March 06, 2005, Opening Shop

Friday Night I went to a miserable trucker bar that over the past 5 years has become a counter-culture hangout. For no reason other than drunken rage I punched a friend of mine in the face 18 times. I consider last night to be boring by most standards.

I believe Western Society is currently in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. Not in the traditional "rotting corpse walking the earth" way, but in a more subtle haze of indifference that effects every aspect of our lives. Now, back to Friday Night.

Due to some serious health problems with a member of my family, and my complete lack of interest in anything for the future, I decided to go out and get trashed. This is breaking with my personal policy not to drink heavily anymore as bad things happen. Of course my choice as usual was spontaneous, and completely inappropriate. Why? well it was my friends Birthday, so being the person I am, I had no choice but to hijack his party and drag everyone with me on my path of destruction.

10pm, I get off work and meet everyone at the pub. Sober. 1015pm. Everyone orders beer, I order a shot of Jack Daniels, a straw and a saucer. The membranes in your nose are extremely sensative. Spending most of my adult life around friends that do a variety of "nose drugs" has taught me that no mater the substance, there is more than one way to skin a cat. So if you want to get from 0 to 100 in 5 minutes with a limited budget, This little trick will get you there, with a great deal of pain and discomfort, but hey, no pain no gain.

1. pour the shot onto the saucer.
2. put straw into nostril ensuring that the tip of the straw is not touching any skin. You don't want a plastic straw to cut up the interior of your nose now do you? No, you'd just look like an idiot.
3. inhale the whiskey ensuring that some air gets in as well so you dont over do it.
4. Wait 5 to 10 minutes as the booze goes directly to your brain making you an ass in no time.

What does this teach us? Well Ive learned that you can take something that is usually socially acceptable such as drinking an ounce of whiskey and make it seem entirely unwholesome. And on the other hand, there are individuals out there who can take the "hobby" of smoking crack and turn it into something out of Scarface. As for me, I stick to the sauce.

The Birthday boy had some of his other friends at the table. "Straight edge" types. Sporting a trend I don't understand. Why is it popular all of a sudden for men to have Ferrah Foucette Perms? After my Whiskey "Cook-up" I swung my head back and reeled from the intense burn of whiskey in my nostril. Meeting the faces of 5 completely terrified kids who were caught completely off guard by the idea that something so awful could happen inside the protection of a franchise pub. Well Done Me. Lines from "House of The Rising Sun" were recalled.

So there is me, and my friends from work on one side of the table, drinking heavily and intimidating the kids sitting on the other side. After five minutes of this treatment they left. And despite me trying to convince them to take the Birthday boy, they didn't. but that didn't matter, I was leading this mob now, and regardless of the event. I was going to have a miserable time whether anyone else wanted to or not.

I was bored of the pub. I was bored of the beer and of my friends. I didn't want to drink premium beer, I wanted quart bottles of something awful, I wanted to go to a place a little more real. The place I chose is an old tavern that at one time was famed for its cheap beer and white trash hospitality. I dont really know how it became a punk bar, but it is now. Occasionally I will go there and get absolutely hammered by myself to wallow in selfloathing, but tonight it was going to be full, so I decided to make an event of it. I rounded up my loafer and slacks friends and brought them to the worst place I knew in the city. Bought a quart bottle of shitty beer and sat down at the only empty table in the house. The others stuck close together as if the occupants would at any time jump up and rob them. Culture shock can be a beautiful thing.

After they joined me at the table there was a good fifteen minutes of peace, followed by constant nagging to leave. So it was obviously time for a cigarette. Upon returning I berated my friends for being so completely boring in such a chaotic place. Then a blackout of about 30 seconds, followed by me punching a friend of mine in the face 18 times. Wasnt a problem, he sort of laughed but the girl playing pool behind me wasnt amused, so I apologized and went back to my beer. Nothing of interest happened at that point so we left for a friends house where we ate pizza and I fell asleep on the couch.

The next thing I remember was opening my eyes and not knowing where I was, sudden realizations that I had slept with my mouth open on my back and wondered if in some wierd alternate reality I choked to death on my own vomit. I know its dramatic, but its my way of saying "Wow I didnt choke on my own vomit while I slept! Kick-ass!". Someone else was sleeping on the opposite couch, but I didnt recognize them. Found the washroom, washed my face and left. Stumbling through the downtown area listening to "God Speed You Black Emperor" and smoking a cigarette that made me stop and gag every few minutes, I was the warm little centre of selfloathing for the city. No one was more pleased with their shitty life than I was. Walking to the bus to go home I watched as two homeless men fought each other until one was punched unconcious and kicked in the head until bloody. I stepped over his body and thought about the nice weather for a march day.