march 2nd, 2010 pt. 2

the balvenie

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.