I'm feeling especially crazed lately, and it is all due to the fact that I'm in grad school and I have not a clue what I am doing, but I have many crazy thoughts and not enough time/direction to pursue them all. This story has something to do with it.
The other night I was back in The Chi and I decided to start drinking Crown Royale at 9:30 in the evening. This is what happened:
(first drink): This is nice. I like Chicago. This bartender is nice. I like this song. I wish I could get out of my head though. I can't believe this drink was $12. If Eric weren't DJing here, I would never have come in here. That go-go dancer screen thing is pretty fucken cool though.
(second drink): I wonder how long we have to stay here. I can't drink too much. I have to drive home.
(third drink): Dude, let me tell you about New York. Shit is fucked up. I kind of like it though. Oh you live there too, huh? Well, let me tell you about it. Hey, you need a drink?
(fourth drink): Man Eric, that was a great set. Meet my new friend. What's your name, dude? He's visiting from New York. Hey, you want to fight? I'm just kidding. Hey, you want a cigarette?
(fifth drink): Man this is great. I love Chicago. Hey, you need a drink?
(sixth drink): What are you talking about? I'm a great dancer. Fuck off. Who needs a drink?
(passed out in some bathroom): No, Eric, you can't come in. I'm fine. But I will need to leave soon. Get ready.
(wandering aimlessly down Lincoln Avenue): No, my car's not on Lincoln. It's...parked in front of another car. On the side of the road. (apparently I said the next thing 3 times) Man Eric, you know what's great? As soon as we find my car, I'm gonna get in the back seat, and I'm gonna go to sleep. It is gonna be great.
(7 a.m.): Am I dead? Oh my god, I'm frozen to death. Weird, I'm under a blanket though...but I'm not in bed...I'm in...my car. Parked...on the side of the road...on Diversey. Frozen to death.
When I got the lowdown on my behavior the next day, I was glad to hear that I'm not a bad drunk, and that I contained all of my grossness to the bathroom of some diner we were at. Also, I started to talk about how crazy I was feeling, but it made me sad, and so I stopped talking about, and started trying to beat people up. The things a person will do to get away from their craziness!
It is a very lonely feeling, and I am desperate for some real guidance. But I don't know who to get it from. I don't even really know what I'm thinking about, just that it's driving me crazy and I can't escape it. Some of it is circular thought. Some of it is just bottomless philosophizing. A lot of it leads back to Marx.
I guess it is grating on me more than I know. I hate the feeling of not being able to explain myself or what is on my mind. That, I suppose, is why I write. I want to know that what I'm thinking can be explained. If I get bogged down in heady thoughts that are inexplicable, they are pretty much worthless thoughts. What is the use of thought if it isolates you rather than connects you? But I am floating lately, and I try to get into things, and then I try to avoid them, and then I get frustrated because I don't even know where to begin. I don't even know how this all began.
Waking up in the icebox of my mom's SUV at 7 in the morning made me feel like the desperation is coming to a hilt, that all the thoughts that I've been having, all the explanations I've been seeking may not actually be getting me anywhere except towards psychosis, cirrhosis, and complete alienation from society. It is a weird sensation to wake up alone, freezing, and thinking, "I don't even know the last thing I remember. It all blends together into this confusing feeling that is so overwhelming it brinks on numbness."
And then the nausea kicks in.
As I drove home, I thought of the last time I'd woken up cold and alone, and probably saved from freezing to death by my high BAC. It was in San Francisco when I leaved by Ocean Beach, and I got locked out of my apartment, and I slept on the stairs for a few hours because my roommates would not wake up. Oh, these cold and drunken nights when we are so close to home...