It's Friday night, well, very early Saturday morning, and I'm going down to see the new GF Elle Saturday evening. I'll stay over night with her, then we'll do fun stuff on Sunday, before I drive back up here Sunday evening. Elle's not much on sleeping late, and her bedroom isn't much on dark curtains, so it's fairly certain I'll be awake at the ungodly hour of 7am Sunday morning. Which is why I'm trying to get to bed semi-earlier tonight, and why I'll be setting my alarm to wake up @ 10 this morning, so I'll be tired earlier Saturday night, and can go to bed with her and not be dead on Sunday after waking up @ 8am. Or did I say 7am? Dunno.
The gist of all that is that I had a beer, and then a fairly (un)healthy splash of vodka in a cup of melted strawberry smoothie, in a so-far unsuccessful effort to make myself sleepy this late evening. And I'm typing this since I'm too buzzed to do any productive work, and since I couldn't think what else to do with myself for the next half hour until I do get sleepy enough to... sleep.
Hence the post title. And man I'm making a lot of typos. Peril of drunken typing. Going to wearout the backspace at this rate. Drunken emails I just let the typos fly, but here I'm trying to maintain some publishing standards. Which is ironic, sicne this is written more or less for a few hundred strangers online, while emails go to dear friends in RL, who I should, in theory, worry more about. More about their reception of my drunken ramblings.
Anyway, I was last buzzed enough to be borderline drunk on September 4th. 15 days ago. I know this since I remembered sending the IG a drunken email then, and I just went into my sent folder and searched on her (real) name, and there was the email. Sept 4th, 10:18pm. I got an earlier start that day since I was over at Elle's house the night before, and then after driving home in the early morning I had fasted all afternoon since I had to do so before giving blood (for a physical, not for charity). And after that was over it was nearly 6pm, thanks to various delays at the doctor's office. And when I came home I had a big glass of white wine with some chicken and rice, and with 18 hours of nothing in my system, it went right (the fuck) to my head.
Which doesn't explain why I felt compelled to send the IG an email, but she used to always enjoy my drunken emails, so I figured I'd send her one for old time's sake. My previous email to her was August 8th, and she hadn't replied to that one either, so doing that math, and all but taking off my shoes to do so, it's been 6 weeks since we've spoken. And I doubt we'll ever speaken again. During the 2 years we were good friends and hanging out constantly, she turned on 2 of her other friends, one an ex-boyfriend, and in both cases she decided she would never speak with them again. I think she did speak with both of them again eventually, but it was months and months before she did so. Her M.O. was to cut off people who troubled her entirely, and I suppose I troubled her when our bestie-ship ended.
The irony is that I really don't have anything to say to her. Reading the drunken email I sen her 2 weeks ago, it's just a rambling mess without any real point or content. And sure, you might expect that of a drunken email, but she always liked my drunken emails since they were very content rich. Most of my emails were, but in the rare drunken ones I dove right into some subject and got right to the heart of it, rather than beating around the busy with prolifically wordy effusions. You know, the kind that typify my usual blog posts.
Much like that last paragraph, actually. Was the email.
The other irony is that I don't really have anything to say to Elle, when I'm drunken. She hardly drinks and has never been drunken in her life, and we've got a very good and healthy, communicative relationship. Not a lot of hidden agendas and mixed messages and cock teasing, of the sort that typified my relationship with the IG. So with her drunken emails were useful, and almost necessary, since I could say things that weren't said otherwise. Cut to the chase, sorta.
With Elle there's not a need for that, at least not yet, which brings me back to the
raison d'etre of of this blog post. No one to email when drunk, not sleepy enough to sleep, nothing to say to the IG (ever again?), in no condition to do productive fiction or D3 site work, and yet restless and unable to sit still or just read things. So I wanted to type, and here I am. Typing.
Happily, the soporific action of fingers on keys seems to have soporoficed me, and now I'm going to brush my teeth and crash. Hope it was good for you too? Kbyethx.
Labels: drinking, elle, the I.G.
