The Calender

Started on this drug kick, booze too, has been quite overly published already. I marked the days on a calender, mostly dealing with drinking, the drugs are easy enough to put away. Since Apr 13, it has gone 0,0,0,2,0,0,0,0,2,2,1,5,0,0,0. That would represent the time from the 13th to the 29th, feel like a pitcher, had a couple of bad innings, have not gotten through the whole work travel thing where I run into all my work friends who like to drink, but even most of them have started to pack it in, not too much of a crowd to party with at the moment, really do not think my behavior has given others the opportunity or the inspiraton to tone it down, would not make too much sense, who knows, they do what they want, fact is I still felt the need to have a few beers which means I will never really quit drinking entirely, coupled with the fact that friends can still motivate me to throw a few down whenever, even though that particular weekend it did not seem anyone was really in the mood to hangout, Sacramento is not exactly party central and when we all reconvene in Montreal in a few weeks, I have no doubt the party wagon will be valeted right in front of our hotel, guess it is all about the setting, the rep of Montreal, not much of a fan, already can here the calls to hit all the strip clubs in town, which were pretty weak, the whole scene was a bit played out, meth addicted strippers and hookers trying to sell me hits of crack, violence in the streets, drunken bar brawls, street kids looking to move bunk narcotics, the whole scene wreaked of the washed out haven brought down to earth since the late 60's, it cannot be stopped, youth still buy into the dream of substance abuse bliss, enlightenment some people call it, getting high, have it, I look down the barrel from the opposite end that they are on, I know a few things, experienced plenty, more than any meth smoking stripper and a condom could offer.

Anyway, the party wagon is like that, somedays the boys put a tarp over the thing, set it out behind the barn and pretend it never existed. Other days, the wagon is spinning its wheels in well worn ruts, completely lit afire, then catching traction veering erratically in all directions without anyone who has the smallest idea where they might be at the moment behind the controls, time speeds up, the wagon hits light speed and if I am lucky enough I get teleported back to my bed at the hotel. Not too worried already so much to do during the summer that this side trip to Montreal will probably end up with the NHL playoffs going on at the same time, turning into 24hr set, show, and strike fiesta, right back on the plane, then Mother's Day. So damn straight now, feel like an entirely different person, cognitive, self aware, not in the drug dillusional sense, save those ideas for tomorrow.