Discount Chinese Beer...
When every moment of your time is downtime , the mind will wander almost endlessly. To my eternal detriment , it will always wander into the past for replays of the old times. It has been two months since I returned home from a three month holiday in tropical Darwin and I feel profoundly lost. No foward momentum thrusting me into the next phase. No ingenious plans for success or social events to remind myself Im part of a collection of souls called the human race. Purgatory. Fuck. The endless cycle of cable television does nothing to quell the feeling , nor the inevitable odyssey into my own head. My past: the failures , successes and all the shit inbetween that was probably important but I didnt bother to recognise. The souls I've known: my friends , current and past , the two women I was lucky enough to call my 'Great Loves'. The fuckton of disparate , seemingly meaningless jobs I have slaved away at for the almighty dollar. The parties. The sex , drugs and rock 'n' roll (to be air their was a lot of hip-hop included). The euphoric-beyond-all-comprehension highs and the crippling lows. My family: only vague symbols of my idyllac (ha!) childhood. It's as if all these moments , feelings and factors meant everything because they forged the me I am. But now , stuck in purgatory with nothing but cable T.V and cheap Chinese beer to accomodate myself with , all those factors seem to have downgraded to what I can only fathom them to be...memories. I am not that person. I dont know that guy. I was merely viewing these times as a witness , a voyeur.
Since I returned from Darwin I have been staying with Terry and Polly , two close friends who recently became engaged. Good for them , of all the people who dive into relationships , these two have a good chance of making it. They knew I was jobless and next to broke upon arriving home so cheap rent with friends was a huge plus. Terry was the one who introduced me to D.C.B , which we decided was an acronym for 'Discount Chinese Beer' , since the rest of the bottle only had chinese symbols splattered over it. Two nights ago , Terry and I went halves in a special advertised at the local bottleshop. Five cartons of D.C.B for only one hunded bucks. No mere mortal could refuse this token from the Booze Gods! The very next day Polly had decied on a whim to go camping down south. This meant Terry was going too , being engaged and all. His free will had taken a beating but hey , that one of the joys of love. So there we were , DCB and me. I never much indulged in the ancient art of binge drinking during the day but the endless journeys into my past and the constant taunts of not having a fucking clue what to do with my life was taking its toll. Numb away the numbness. Atrophy my apathy.
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