Kurrs' Digital Tapestry of Words

Originally Uploaded here by Abbey Wuthrich

There's a blur between where my poisoning and my illness begin and end, but I don't seem to feel much worse than I did before. More of a replacement, toss out some fever, throw in some nausea. Presto, new symptomology.

I'm not really certain why I did it, a mistake most likely. A game of catch-up and I was playing in the wrong league. Vodka, chartreuse, flavoured and not, ten shots and less than ten minutes later. Did I really do that? Throw down some beer and let's get to drunken. I remember having things in my hands, poker chips and playing cards, the edges of chairs and tables, probably another drink (there was a martini of some sort...). I am told I said some poison-induced words, but nothing more than really hammered might explain away.

First went my reason, then my balance, then my ability to speak, see, stand, or... well, move. You looked like death warmed over. I was capable of little more than vomiting, which I did to excess. I talk about the "good" old days, with a certain amount of disingenuity I might add, about how we would drink until we lost all of our functions, yet no one I know now has ever seen me like that, until yesterday.

Well, I suppose at least I was educational.

We did that frequently, riding the line between completely hammered and unable to function even in the slightest bit all the time. We would get completely shit-faced and then complain we weren't drunk enough, wandering to the liquor store for more 40s. Yarrr. It was stupid in ways that I have trouble reconciling with now.

It was incredibly self-destructive, this time around. I didn't intend it to be at first, but ended up being that way. Some intense act of degradation, throwing to the wind my carefully collected demeanour and replacing it with crass, and occasionally French, words and behaviour. I'm not sure I would have liked to know me at that moment, and in a way I think that's why I did it.

It wasn't hard either, I've been spending almost all of every day doing little more than lay on the couch. Sleep has been hard to come by as well, a movement from couch to bed to couch, with the occasional outing done at great effort. And then I decide to drink hard and fast? I already had trouble leaving the house, it is hardly surprising what happened.

Ah well, one for the books of not to be done again. I promised myself I wouldn't drink like that again almost ten years ago.

I suppose I needed reminding why.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: to the rain...