Drunken Binge Part 1 (The One With Drunken Poem Reading)

Here is a poem that I wrote a while back. I wrote it for this girl that I liked. But me, being the socially awkward type, and having less courage than the damn lion form The Wizard of Oz, I got really drunk and then decided to read it to her. I knew that I would have never been able to read it to her otherwise, because of the aforementioned character flaws.

I was going to just write the poem and let y’all judge it on what it is, but I decided to back track a little bit and tell y’all the story of that day, with the drunken poem reading coming at the end. Pretty much I just wanted you to have a reason to read the eloquent crap I’m about to write.

It was my sophomore year in college, last year 2010-2011, one of the worst years of my life. No on single tragic event happened that year; it was every damn thing that happened. No one close to me died or anything, sending me in a downward spiral. Just everything freaking seemed to go wrong. Call me over dramatic, but that year sucked.

Now that I think about it, I think that I will save that story for another posting. Well I had gone home for the weekend, well at least to my brother’s home. I was twenty years old, and had just gotten a huge, like $500, refund check back. I decided what better place to spend a copious amount of this money than at the liquor store.

I bought all kinds of liquor and beer. I got a thirty pack of Bud-Light (about one of the only beers I enjoy to drink on a regular basis), a six pack of Newcastle Ale (which I enjoyed, but it tasted like headache in a bottle), a bottle of Paul Masson brandy, Evan Williams whiskey, Montezuma tequila, Parrot Bay 100 proof coconut rum, Spiced Jack spiced rum, and a small bottle of Jägermeister. The Jäger was for my brother, because I do not like my alcohol to remind me of the time I almost over-dosed on cough syrup. I wanted to cover all my bases, and have a supply for a while.

On the way back to Savannah from my brother’s house, one of my best friends and I got into a bad argument. I decided that I was DONE with trying to be his friend; it was not worth my sanity any more. It was not only the argument, but also other stuff I will probably save for later. The argument was just the straw that broke the bottles seal.

But then I realized that I had to live with this dude for the rest of the semester. Then I fondly remembered my suitcase in the trunk, full of enough liquor to kill a person. Ahh, I was so happy to have that suitcase, it was my own traveling minibar.

After a three hour car ride in complete silence, I was ready to drink. I got back to my apartment and cracked open the bottle of spiced rum, which may have already been opened, I don’t know the whole thing was a blur. I was on a mission. I wanted to stay drunk for as long as I could, I was shooting for a solid week.

I figured out the perfect combination early, I call it the three shot express. Pour two shots into a cup, I like coffee travel mugs, pour your third shot. Fill the cup with cola, about a can, and mix. Then take your third shot and chase with the liquor and coke.

I had Spanish at 11 AM on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I went to class with a small hang-over, mostly my limbs feeling as if I had gotten the shit beat out of me. After class though, I decided I could not wait. I went back to my apartment, made me a three shot express and started drinking away. I had gotten pretty good at drinking these things, so I needed a refill in no time.

I made another; decided I wanted to read the girl the poem I had written for her. I was a little tipsy already. I used to be on anti-depressants, and I know you’re not supposed to mix them with alcohol, but I didn’t give a damn at the time. Luckily, now I am off of them and I can drink till my liver’s content.

I knew that I was not going to be fuck it drunk off of this second drink so I decided I was going to be a real bad-ass and grabbed my flask. I walked, probably more like an eloquent stumble, across the hall to her apartment. Sat down, finished my drink (pretty fast), broke out the flask, and started draining it. Later I added it up and it was around 9-10 shots total I took that day. I was good and gone.

I whipped out the poem and not so articulately read:

Oh thy evil temptress of man

Whose beauty and mind,

Make sin the deaf and blind

And upon first meeting sin was began.

If to be with thee is sin,

Then sin I must again.

                                                                                                                     

To glorious God I bid farewell

And to eternal damnation cast me,

For to live without thee

Is to already exist in hell.

I thought that it was a nice poem. Probably would have been more effective if I was not slurring the lines so bad that it sounded as if Helen Keller was presenting it. But still, I was hoping for something. Nope! Instead, she told me to go lay down, and eat some bread. I just poured my drunken soul out to you and you tell me to go lay down? “Only if you come with me!”

Needless to say, she did not come. I winded up just giving here the damn poem. I think she might have wanted it. Now thinking back I should have not given it to her, I could have at least used it for another special lady. But, I guess if I did that then she would not be so special.

Some other shit happened that day, that week, that semester, that year; but I think that I will save that for another time.

May peace be with you.