Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

alchohol

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Today was all aftermath of last night; Kate and Ross were both in various states of hangover, while the other halves of their respective couples were none-too-pleased. Ironically, i was feeling fine enough to eat four waffles (probably having to do with my sobering up while blogging last night). Otherwise, i don’t think i did anything today … i honestly don’t know where the hours went. I’m actually just bored: i don’t have any work to do for classes yet, i’m not feeling too musical lately, and i still can’t use the internet during the day because the DSL equipment hasn’t arrived. So, i’ve been watching a lot of television. I mean, i’ve got to make sure to kill a few brain cells every single day, right?

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2002/01/8447445/

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The cool thing about this (other than how my typing speed and accuracy increases when i’m drunk) is the excellent time that i had. I saw friends. We made dinner. We exchanged gifts. I was dressed in a coordinated fashion until i started stripping on the dance floor. The entire affair made me feel entirely adult, complete with multiple wines before dinner, discussion of skiing over entrees, planning a trip to Spain over cocktails, and an excellently played game of chess throughout. Though most of the attendees are still undergrads, we definitely have found a way to have fun that isn’t just some beer-soaked party, and that manages to be witty and still just drunken enough to remind us we’re in our golden years.

It’s been a good week.

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2002/01/8427274/

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So, like, i might be just a little wee bit intoxicated. Nothing to worry about, i assure you. It all started with our pollyanna dinner, where i unexpectedly scored the White Stripes album that’s been topping critic’s polls and Dance Hall at Louse Point, which i’ve neglected to buy for quite some time now. By the time of gift-unwrapping i had only imbibed a glass or two of wine, and so i made a trip to the kitchen to ask Ross to upgrade my liquor intake a bit.

That’s where the downward spiral began. About two hours (and four double-strength mixed drinks later) i’m el-trasho.

The road to el-trasho began innocently enough with orange juice, peach schnapps, and orange Grey Goose vodka, but soon thereafter it seemed to involve several of my friends circling the room in clown-sized bicycles and someone starting a huge fight with a large loaf of french bread. A drink later and i was playing power air-chords to Dookie, swinging around a riding crop in the air, and dueting with Kate on vocals. The next drink (a “bullfrog”) found me MC-ing tracks 1 & 3 from The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill in spectacular fashion. Then there was a lot of club music (the dance moves during which may have earned me a death threat from Lindsay). And, then, just when they thought they were safe, i found a copy of The Immaculate Collection.


Let’s just say i still remember all of the choreography to “Vogue.”

Ross was terrified. Kate was stunned. Lindsay was sure i was gay. I was breathless.


After that i might have climbed up the bars on the front window, but the important thing is that i made it home in a coherent state and managed to log on to the internet. Rock on.

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2002/01/8427205/

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But, i miss it. I miss going to sleep with the huge book splayed open somewhere in the middle on the pillow next to me. I miss sneaking a peak forward to see how long i had to wait for another Pemulis appearance. Infinite Jest became a placeholder in my life for the dependency that it reviles … on entertainment, on liquor, on drugs, on other people … watching the characters in their endless dance of all of the above and even more left me free to do what i needed to do in my life without feeling the elastic pull of any of my various addictive tendencies in one direction or another.

As soon as i finished the last seven pages my grandmother was in the room, chirping like a bird. I had somehow managed to stave her off by showing her how close to finished i was, but i found myself without a defense and my first thought was “i need a drink.” I’ve never needed a drink before; in fact, i haven’t been drinking especially often lately. Suddenly, it became the focal point of my day: coming home to my empty apartment and getting blitzed enough so that everything was fuzzy around the edges like a peach and i could simmer quietly down into silence and sleep. Imagining the slippery slope to unconsciousness i might take later was enough to save me from the endless bickering of my septuagenarian family-members, and to get my on the plane.


When i left the hospital i wanted, more than anything else, to be somewhere other than in my own head. Yes, i wanted to go home. Yes, i was hungry. Most of all, though, i was craving an opportunity to poke at my perceptions and rattle my reasons. I wanted to feel disconnected in a wholly opposite way from how i felt in the hospital. And, i did. It was perhaps the most excruciatingly stupid single night of my life, but i woke up the next morning with that binge-stupidity as a tangible buffer between my sick and confined self and my well self — the two never saw an intersection because i made sure to remove myself from where they might’ve met.

This has become the function of substance to me, suddenly … separation. I’ve always thought that anything potentially addictive would be dangerous when it stopped just being fun and started being useful and i was entirely right, but i managed to forget about the entire situation while i had that thick book on my pillow filled with its own endless fucked up addicts to draw my escapism from. Now it’s gone, and i am set back to my continuing reality.


And, importantly: alone — no more characters to keep me up at night. So, maybe it wasn’t a reaction to the novel, but to the mental company it provided.

I’m not sure. I’m going to sleep on it.

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2001/12/8138240/

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A rare occurrence… me, my mother, and my father, talking about our respective colonoscopies. My mom is wearing a Madonna-style “New York” tank top and just bribed the food services people to bring me extra jello, my dad is wearing a denim shirt from his store that says “Pete’s Gun Shop” and brought me his 1960’s boxed set of Lord of the Rings, and i’m merrily clicking away as i assure them that Everclear would be a totally appropriate clear liquid to mix with my cranberry juice.


Yeah, we’re fucked up no matter how you slice it.

https://www.crushingkrisis.com/2001/12/7560454/