5 AM

It’s almost light again. 5 A.M. Pete pointed out the sun to me as we were walking up the front stairs. I’ve asked him not to do that before. He so rarely complies with my requests.

I turn on the shower and crack open the bottle of water I bought on the way home. You cannot drink the tap water here; it is counter to your own health. I crack open the 1.3 liter bottle, I drink off half of it in three long gulps. I pause, catch my breath, take another long drink. I replace the cap, drop my boxer shorts, get under the cool water. I fade in and out of consciousness. I wonder how hung over I’ll be in the morning. I wonder if I’ll remember showering in the morning. Usually being cognizant of blackout as a possibility is a good sign it won’t happen, but who can say? Maybe I’ve had premonitions of memory loss every time it’s happened and now just don’t remember them. Not recalling premonitions of memory loss, there’s got to be a word for that but it’s not irony. Is it?

I turn off the shower and stand there. I’m cold. I make sure to lift my foot up high enough when I step out of the tub. True alcoholism requires greater precision than most might think. Movements taken for granted become less automatic. Distances are easily misjudged. You have to be sure.

I dry quickly and incompletely, beads of water still on my head and chest. I sneak under the covers. I am still cold. I wait for my body heat and the blanket to create a pocket of warmth so that I can sleep. It’s now 5.37AM on a Saturday. I wasn’t going to let this happen again. I was going to come here and stop doing this, but there’s little point now. I’ve already fallen back into bad habits and it’s way too much of second nature for me to stop now. I run daily but can’t shake the beer weight. The nice part of being drunk, though, is that none of it matters. I just want to sleep, that is all. The rest of you can fuck off.

Lyle Lovett plays. “As I lay sick and broken: Viva Mexico! My eyes just won’t stay open, and I dream a dream of home.” I must have left it on last night; I’ll try to turn it off in a minute. Just need to get warm. Just need to sleep for ten hours. Ten and a half maybe, but I won’t; I can’t anymore. I was out looking for you, of course, but I didn’t find you. I don’t know why I’m surprised. I always check the same places. I feel like I have to drink because bars are where they hide the women. Not the good women of course, not you. I don’t know where they hide you, if I did I’d be there. Besides, if I’m not the life of the party, who am I? I need this to hang my hat on. I need this for me. I need this to be someone. I need an identity and this is the one I’ve had so long I think I’ll just stick with it, even if it doesn’t make me happy. I know how to do it; I’m well drilled.

I could have gone to the Goose, I guess, but at this point I’d just as soon sleep. I’m not in the mood for that type of company. I just want to sleep for ten and a half hours.

I drink more of the water. I’ll thank myself in the morning. Hopefully I’ll sleep through the morning.