There is...

There is an unopened beer bottle shoved between 100 selected poems of e.e. cummings and The Master and Margarita and it’s taking so much self control not to down it right now. Actually I just cracked it open and it made me think about how this weekend when I took communion I drank a big swig of the Blood of Christ and I wanted to go back for more. Antoinette cried because she got stuck in Germany and couldn’t be at Liz’s birthday except through photographs and stories and I cried because I had to endure a weekend of sobriety and code switching. Tonight I’m working on Wirtschaftsdeutsch homework and battling loneliness with massive amounts of alcohol.

Someone who ...

Someone who loves me should buy me Mauvaises Nouvelles Des Etoiles or Cinema De Serge Gainsbourg by Serge Gainsbourg or Arabesque by Jane Birkin for my birthday.

I went...

I went to the store last night and bought all the necessary accoutrements to cook myself a really delicious meal but then got lazy before my radio show and decided to just drink a beer instead. My sister, Antoinette, is coming in from Germany this weekend so hopefully there will be time to sneak away from this family engagement and get drunk behind some dumpsters or sit around in our PJs all day drinking vodka and watching Da Ali G Show reruns. Drinking heavily is in the forecast for later on this evening after I go and retrieve a suit from the tailor and con a 21 year old into buying me everyone’s favourite cheap headache inducing vodka, Popov.

The ot...

The other night the moon looked full of itself and I was dreaming of better days in far off places. Spring Break plans seem to be non existent and every day I spend in Texas is another day I come closer to downing a bottle of Ambien. I miss traveling; I miss journeying thousands of miles by myself to find myself simply eating at a street kiosk and for some reason being so happy to be alive. Life here really isn’t life at all; its stagnation and lately the tiniest smell or sight of something throws me into the most vivid flashbacks and daydreams. Some days I walk by the travel bureau and I’m tempted just to buy a one way ticket to Rio de Janeiro and stay there until I know Portuguese or until the frenetic American way of life seems appealing again.

Last night in 30 seconds

Andy came back from Iraq yesterday and we drank tequila from tea cups and fried various foods at Nick W’s fry party and after ingesting a deep-fried Junior Bacon Cheeseburger and chasing it with a big swig of tequila I realised that I have a problem, whenever I am drunk German is the first language that comes to mind and being in the middle of Texas German is naturally not a very popular language. So the tequila hits you fast and the next thing you know you’re slinking down the Drag howling at the moon that during a Texas cold front decides to not come out at night.

When your head i...

When your head is spinning just as fast as the room and you black out face down in the couch you don’t really get the chance to think about how shitty and fucked up your life is. The times you really get to think about how dismal life is, are the times you spend the weekend sober doing schoolwork and when you go to bed in lieu of passing out. Life really seems better when you’re drunk.