I think being drunk is a kind of clarifier for the mind. It removes all inhibition and allows you to be your true self, even if that self is chaotic and damaging. Im never more lucid, yet befuddled, than when Im tipsy. I have less than 10% bodyfat, and I don’t drink regularly, so one shot of whiskey, particularly on an empty stomach, is enough to send me careening over the edge. Yes, I am a self-professed lightweight, and damn proud of it. Some people may talk shit, calling me a bitch or whatever, but given that their beer guts could double as hammocks if hollowed out, I think Ill be forgiven for saying that I don’t give a damn. In my personal experience, which I can say without one bit of braggadacio is quite extensive, the girl wants the fit guy who succumbs to inebriation after a few shots over the corpulent frat boy who’s only claim to fame is the ability to shotgun a 6-pack. He can keep his 6-pack while mine is being licked by whatever female strikes my fancy at that particular moment. The stomach itself is only ornamentation, a pitstop on the way towards her final destination. While I enjoy the discretionary pleasure of a fine young woman, my alcoholic friend is ending another night in the embrace of his brothers. In this particular instance, I can say that I enjoy loneliness. When talking to women, a certain level of intoxication can be beneficial. Anyone who’s been in the field for more then 5 minutes can attest to the fact that vibing with a woman is the most important aspect of any interaction. At the venue you choose, youre practically guaranteed a bevy of potential lays drinking alcohol, so it would behoove you to mirror their behavior, at least on the surface level. However, this is a very narrow line to balance on. Too far towards the path of snobbish sobriety and you’re all but guaranteed to be the wet blanket, weighing down the alcohol infused joviality of the room with your prudish abstinence from the festivities. On the other hand, if you partake to the point of gluttony, your chances of female companionship vanish as fast as your fine motor skills. If she is tipsy and you’re incompetent, incoherent and impotent, but socially and physically, you will inspire feelings of repulsion in her usually reserved for rapists and stalkers. The key is to find and inhabit a happy medium between the 2 extremes. Imbibe enough alcohol to depress your fears, suppress your inhibitions, and amplify your charismatic features. Be flirtatious and aggressive without being seedy and clingy. This is hard to write about because its more a state of mind than a set of skills that can be mastered. It can only be attained through constant grinding away in your relative social scene. Brandish your weapons and obliterate your boundaries. The work will be hard. You will toil, sometimes ecstatically, the majority of the time miserably. But the rewards? A bevy of fresh, nubile young women to peruse and enjoy, to love and be loved by. This promise is worth more than its weight in diamonds, gold and platinum to me. If it doesn’t appeal to you in the same sense, I cant say anything to sway you. Just know that life, in all of its vibrancy and struggle, is lived in the midst of others, not trembling in the attic of your own head.
I like watching you sleep/ She said, as I jostled and kneed/ My way on the mattress, stopping to think/ If you watch me, when do you actually fall into deep/ Rest yourself, it must be awful to be/ Kept up by my snoring, talking to me/ Not realizing that I've gone off the brink/ Of wakefulness and darkness until I'm startled and swing/ My arms up and cause you to spring/ Onto my chest laughing, harder than we've/ Ever done before, but you settle in and softly you sing/ I don't mind, because I love to listen to your heart as it beats/ The tears begin to pool and I cough and release/ Them in the present, because what once caused me to think/ I'd found Heaven on Earth is now a harsh memory/ But I bear it still, because though it carves and it cleaves/ And I lay there trembling, starting to bleed/ I know then I was alive for that part of the scene/ My recollection is sharp as the green/ Blades of grass in the lawn of our dreams/ In front of the house where we'd deco