The first thing I did when I got home from work was sleep. Last night I found myself staring at the ceiling at 2:30, then getting up to put more music on and write a short poem. I fell asleep soon after that. Today I woke up exhausted and continued to yawn late into the afternoon.
I rolled out of bed at 8:20 after the nap. It had been a while since I took a long, hard nap and I was reminded quickly of the daze it can throw you in. I walked lazily into the bathroom, smacking my scowled lips together and scratching my chest with a weak right hand. I ran a shower and spent most of my time under the water blinking heavily and playing with my hair. When I stepped out and dried myself off I felt slightly less confused and considerably more hungry. I decided I would walk East down Sunset Blvd., get some food and read some Miller.
On my way I passed the Coach & Horses bar where I first started drinking whisky sours. Three men were standing outside and I imagined one of them had insulted me. In defense I hardened up and accepted the verbal challenge. Four shots of whisky, right now! I replied. We went inside, drank up, and hours later one of them drove home drunk off his ass and crashed head-first into a tree. I shook off the scenario by blowing hot air into my hands and keeping my pace.
I got to the restaurant and sat down across from a comedian I had a lot of respect for. I pulled out the post-it I had left in my book and wrote down the absurd happening I had earlier imagined. I drank my beer and ate my pasta quickly, but I enjoyed every sip and every bite. I love eating alone in a restaurant full of art and interesting faces. On my way out I shook the comedian’s hand and said I think you’re incredibly fucking funny, and more importantly, you’re honest. He smiled and said I really appreciate that and I believed him.
I smoked a cigarette on my way home and bought a nice bottle of single malt scotch at the liquor store near my place. I took out Blue Brother when I sat down in my room, typed up a couple poems and now I sit here typing this, sipping on a damn good scotch.