Too Much To Drink
Is this worth it, she wonders, three sheets to the wind, it is lovely now, but tomorrow’s now will be hell. There are so many different kinds, she is thinking, so many different nows even though it is now all the time, and she feels in her pockets for a pen in case she wants to think more about this later. It is covered in clay. You can’t write a coherent sentence anyway, she scolds, and lays her head back to find that spot on the chair where nothing matters, the sweet spot. Tomorrow is hours away and right now she feels nothing but good. There must be a better word than good, she thinks, and closes her eyes for a minute and when she opens them again it is dark. I hate when this happens, she thinks. And she stands up. Sits right back down. Now, now, she says to herself. You don’t want to fall.
This part keeps her up. Why do we say now now to calm somebody down? What does now now have to do with anything?? Why not then then? Why not skip to the point? You’re too drunk to walk. You’re going to fall. Sit the fuck back down.
Yes. You stick it every time. You leave me breathless. Thank you.
Thank you.