"Drunk Sincerity"

Not that I like Bad Religion at all. Rather, I do not listen to the genre, but the title fits: Oh, yes...blessedly drunk. And more than that; I am fucking wasted. Whatever the voltage was on that bourbon...

And I loved it.

The bourbon hurt the throat...burned it. I loved that too.

It has been too long. Tired of the chocolate milk thing. Tired of alot of things. Just fucking tired.

Covered in paint, still, from work. I have been inhaling that shit for hours. And not on purpose, but when there are painters painting, the paint particles will get through the mask. It always happens that way. I am sure the brain is blue from it.

The only thing I dislike about being mind-fucked from alcohol is the lack of control. I loathe not being in control. I am a control freak, one might say. Smells pervade: burnt coffee, strong soap, and that paint, that matte finish paint I was breathing in all day today. You would think they would give us better masks.

Mjollnir and I had a few words. If one can even call it that.

I hate him almost as much as not being in control. He is taking my control from me.

The really laughable thing here, is that damn speech I wrote earlier...something about alcoholism being a myth...I do not quite recall.

I am a mockery of myself. Odd, how that could happen.
I need something much more than bourbon, something darker, something deeper. Something that has a raw element unlike anything. If we were thinking clearly, we would know where the scalpels were.

Good night, all...I suppose it is late, and we should sleep before our thoughts catch up to us.