drunk writing

My second real day of summer vacation. Meaning it’s the second real day of doing whatever the fuck I want to do. And today, not much unlike yesterday, I’ve chosen the front porch. This time with a computer and not a phone, with a fan and not the wind, a pack of cigarettes instead of a single smoke, and a really nice invention of coconut rum and limeade. In a coffee cup. Twice. or something. I’m having flashbacks of sitting on the front porch of my house in college, inebriated in some form or fashion and watching the summer days pass by with friends. Except today my friend is a cat hiding in a bush. And that’s fine. I needed so much to unwind. I hate that word, unwind. Because who uses it? Commercials selling trips to Caribbean resorts and bath soaps. Makes me think of Marge Simpson when she finally gets a break from her daily grind. She gets a hotel room and sits in the tub with a bottle of tequila by her side.

Sheesh. Am I Marge?

Fuck that.

Nope. I’m just another soul in the cosmos, sittin’ here in this chair, with no one to witness my existence but a wasp and a cat…nevermind..she’s gone. A wasp. Me and this wasp sittin’ on the porch hidden from the world and completely unthought of. Like not existing. There’s a question. So that riddle about whether a tree falling in a forest with no one around to hear it makes a sound..I’m going to be a killjoy and explain why it does. The cracking and ripping and smashing and all the movement involved in the falling of the tree makes waves in the air. These waves are vibrations that have frequencies. There are lots of frequencies of sound that animals with and without eardrums can’t hear. But we still consider the vibrations to be sound. So sound doesn’t depend on the proximity of an eardrum. It depends on whether there are particles of any kind in the space around the event, particles that will propagate vibrations. And in a forest, there are lots of particles. So yes, the falling tree makes a sound.

What was I saying? Yes, existence. If I’m not seen nor heard nor thought of, do I exist? Yes. I am taking up space, and every time my heart beats or my lungs inflate or my eyes blink, I transfer energy from one place to another. And that energy is absorbed by something, maybe stored, maybe not, but spread about in any case. And even though I’m this little spec here in the universe, I am contributing to the demise of that universe. Yes. Demise. All the energy in the known universe is getting tossed about, and at some point the energy is going to be so evenly dispersed (ironic since chaos created such a predicament) that nothing will move. Not even the teensy little quarks. And the universe will freeze to death. So yeah, I’m here, I’m making a difference in the world just sitting here. A difference for the good? That’s subjective. Do you like the universe? You comfy? Then yeah, we are destroying ourselves and that’s bad. Are you miserable? Can’t control your situation? Well then you need to find someone to talk to. Because purposeful self-destruction or joy in the idea of it isn’t a good thing. The universe will die long after the molecules of this planet, including you and me and dinosaurs and King Solomon and the ashes from my last cigarette, are tossed back into some part of space when the sun dies. And that’s inevitable. But it’s nothing to get worked up about. It’s not worth getting excited about, either, since no one will be around to witness the phenomenon. Hey, you ever think about how the atoms on this planet are as old as the planet? There’s a finite number of them, not counting space debris falling into the atmosphere or the American flag stuck on the moon or other back and forth space goings on. Which is relatively minute. This untidy system we are confined to, i.e. the planet and everything on it and in it, moves atoms around from thing to thing for as long as the system exists. This system is relatively closed, meaning that, for the most part, things don’t go in and out except light, which is energy, but lets focus on the matter (literally, the atoms that make up the matter), and that means that you could be made up of magma and Napoleon. Even if evolution were a farce, it’s still possible to have the essence of ape in your bones. Neat, huh? I’m breathing in air molecules that you might have exhaled. And vice versa. Unlikely, but possible.

I’ve been outside all day trading molecules with the rose bushes, they sucking up my toxic co2 and I sucking up its toxic o2. We clean each other. Plants are good. But I’m going inside now. Maybe I’ll sleep off this rum.

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9 thoughts on “drunk writing

    1. I just reread what I wrote, and I now understand what Hemingway meant. Writing drunk is easy, no inhibitions to get in the way. Like freewriting. Or free writing. I forget the difference. Anyway, when you sober up, it’s likely you won’t remember what you wrote, so editing what you wrote is like editing someone else’s work. It gives you an unbiased view. A new eye. It’s always best to have your work edited by someone else.

      I laughed at my post, and I like it. I wouldn’t change any of it. I didn’t see any grammar mistakes, either, which impresses me because my writing is chock full of errors when I write sober. Hmmm. Hemingway is genius. I must read that book of short stories and give him a second chance.

      I don’t recommend The Sun Also Rises, though. Not the first chapter, anyway.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. It really isn’t terrible advice, because when you’re drunk you’re not as worried about messing up or grammar or the minutiae that doesn’t matter in the moment. You’re just trying to get out what you feel and mean.

        I LOVE going back to Facebook after I’ve unleashed my drunken ramblings to see what I’ve said, and now that it has that feature where you can see what you posted on that date in different years, I can relive my drunken memories forever lol.

        Like

    2. I replied to this, but it didn’t go through I think. I wrote that I dislike Hemingway, too. I couldn’t get past the first chapter of The Sun Also Rises, which is the only piece of his I have attempted to read. It was boring. A student of mine read a book of his short stories and loved it. She said it was dark. So I should read it and give him a second chance.

      Liked by 1 person

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