The Thematic Evening of Death
Last night was a tale of many sub-plots. The ones we will
focus on here are, in no particular order: young male
horses, shifts in the continuum of time, and thats about it.
As I am writing now, roughly 12 hours after the events of
last evening, I am lucky to be still joined by the
lingering stench of Colt - 45 and 's'. Yes, last night, as
a result of my thin budget, I drank ghetto like. It's only
the first two glasses that tear apart your innards, apres
ca, its smooth coasting into the night. But the coasting
In colaboration with my drinking effort were the
cigarillos, the Colt's', tastey at first, not so much so
the next morning.
So there I was, abusing substance in an even pattern, when
the room slowly begins to darken, people are moving
incredibly quickly but not at all, and I start to smell the
unmistakable, high-pitched odour of marker and light
pressure on my left cheek. Before long I am being carted
off to the front porch with a bag in my face filling with
Thats a bit too graphic yet.
While laying in a semi-conscious state on Matt's leather
sofa, I reflected. Why did this happen? I usually have a
good guage on my limitations, but this time I pissed all
over them. And then it hit me, one slice of pizza for
lunch, non-hardy bowl of soup for supper, and handfull of
all-dressed chips. The math spelt it out for me right
there. So I got up a couple hours later, waved buy to my
comrades and Matt assuming worship position of his
porcelain god, which got me to thinking, how did Matt go
wrong? And with that I was out the door and on the road in
Kevin's brand new car. A very corageous but questionable
accomadation on his behalf.
Last night also marked the celebration of the saving of
daylight, which set the backdrop nicely for the second
theme of the night. Time Shifting chaos. For instance, the
The music, the music, the music, THE music. The music was
great. What can I say, the throw back to early '90s
tuneage. I forget some of it now, but what I do remember
were the vintage dance mix's with the classics such as, Mr.
Vain, I'm the Scat Man, Another Night, and on. Say what you
want, but I grew up on a lot of these sounds (I went to a
catholic school in a purely white, conservative, suburban
community) so, it was pretty nostalgic there, when I was
coherent enough to make it all out. Which leads to the next
contributor to the theme, old school remidial ability to
Not only was this the exact location of my first drunken
escapade occured many moons ago, there were at least 9
people in rough shape, which is somewhat of an anomaly in
this era of perfecting limits and expanding wisdom. But
there it was.
In addition to these and other relevancies was the inflated
population of youngins, and thats all that I can think of.
I applaude all who got to this point.
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