Much of the real power of your unique talent will come from your memory. From memory, you’ll draw and reshape the incidents that will give your characters depth and permit them to reach others. The characters in your fiction will not be conceived or born outside of you, in people you know or watch. They’ll first come from inside of you, from your hopes and fears, and will then be dressed up in other people’s skins and voices so that your stories won’t be monotonous
I feel like I was lacking in this department. So I decided to give it a try.
At the house during an orchestrated party for the Super Bowl even though it was poorly dressed and conceived, my best friend and brother, Larry managed to get me to drink a couple of cups of vodka with what they called a chase being orange juice. Mind you, I don’t drink and I’ve only been drunk one other time and that was also with him.
We are took our session outside in the cold air because they said it was harder to get drunk outside and because it was hot as hell on the main floor. Larry had already accomplished one of his goals of getting my brother Daniel drunk as hell when he arrived and he was currently sleep after throwing it all up because he hadn’t ate beforehand.
Compared to sauna inside, the cool breeze of the night’s air was a welcome climate change. We were usually the ones that caused commotion on our main street so if we weren’t outside playing around, it was nice and peaceful community. Our neighbors knew we were young and never really complained unless we got exceedingly loud.
The taste of the vodka on the porch in February was surprising warming though I did not prefer the burning passion that attempt to sear my throat with each uptake of the plastic cup. But despite to fervid taste, I continued because it my second outing and what happened last time wouldn’t happen this time. I found myself enjoying the drink more than usual after the first cup…hence the saying “It gets better as you drink it.”
After drinking a couple of cups while stationary, I decided it was time to go in the house. I had been outside at the mercy of the chilly winds long enough with no clothing to shield me from winter’s love. But I as I stood, I felt the world as I knew shift. A change that happened so suddenly that I held back the churned concoction that the depths of my stomach conjured that sought an escape. But just as I did that, I witnessed the world tilt and my body followed to compensate, leaving stumbling over until my hand found refuge on the car for support.
Was this really what happens when people get drunk? I asked myself before I realized that I seemed to be thinking outside of my body. It was like viewing my life from a third person perspective but I had no control over it. Outer body experience? Maybe. Regardless, I someone coached myself to walk upright towards the other porch and after climbing three stairs with effort I mind you, I venture into the living room where I suddenly got the urge to seek out more vodka. Now I know this wasn’t me. I didn’t even like the stuff but here I was making an effort to obtain more?
Luckily and unfortunately, I didn’t have to look far. As closed the door with concentration, I found the remains of the bottle on the table and immediately retrieved it while no one was looking. I believe I even did a victory fanfare in my awesomeness before heading upstairs secretly even though I was making more noise that I thought I was and sat down to my great friend Jacques. I don’t remember the conversation that I had with him, I just know he was off in his own zone and it seemed like I was interrupting.
So feeling a bit unwelcome and surprising more heavy than I was before I sat on the floor, I crawled to my feet and took another adventure down two flights of stairs into my room in the basement. My brother Daniel was on the floor passed out after throwing up earlier and though I had no feeling since the first, he seemed so relaxed… until I feel over the futon and landed on him.
Man, my world was spinning at that point. Larry and my girlfriend helped me to me feet and tried to pry the bottle of vodka from my hands which didn’t sit with me the right way…even though I know it was the best thing to do at this point. As after a struggle and a little tussle (by no means little) I gave up the bottle and they hid it from me. Bummed out, I decided to start talking.
Boy that was wrong idea. I don’t even know who that person was but man he was saying to potentially hurtful shit. Larry tried to put me down and make me shut up, hopefully tiring me out so I would just fall asleep but that never happened. Instead, I got really playful and we wrestled in my bed until he realized I could overpower him and quit, heading upstairs bruised and defeated. Man, I knew I had a lot of energy, but this was ridiculous. We battled for nearly thirty minutes.
It was at this point it all finally hit at once or so it seemed. My body was so heavy that I couldn’t more my limbs without considerable effort and concentration only to move inches. I could barely talk. My tongue wasn’t listening to basic patterns of speech that I learned when I younger and had master during my youth. My girlfriend was talking to me, probably trying to help but my hear seemed muffled. And it all felt horrible looking at it, but still felt like I had no control.
Now everyone was aware that my issue was now turning for the worst. My emotions couldn’t be contained anymore and I found myself easily induced by the slightest thought that spotted in the sea. And the first was ego. I challenged myself to go up the stairs, despite the conscious me screaming just to go the bed like everyone else. I blew pass my buddy Jacques who had put up a fight to keep me downstairs only to be powered through after another wrestling match. I reached the main floor unable to stand straight up for longer than ten seconds. I don’t even know why it so important to do it, but I had to.
My limbs were on fire. I could physically feel myself getting heavy as if I loosing the very strength I had to maintain myself now. Why was this happening!? Who could I blame?
Then came anger. Larry had did all of this! It his idea in the first place after getting me drunk the last time! And after wrestling with me and taking the vodka, the bastard thought he could just go upstairs and go to sleep? Hell no! And in some twisted way of thinking, I was going to make him pay and that required another flight of stairs.
And that journey proved to be Mount Everest, the household wooden amusement attraction. With all the energy being used to get pass a man that roughly the same size and weight of me on some narrow stairs, I had nothing left to pour into tank to fuel my climb. So I could only imagine how sad and worthless I must have looked, climbing like a two year old was resisting the concept of using their legs to aid them and tumbling down the hardwood as an result. Pain was the price of admission.
When I finally reached the top, I was physically and mentally exhausted and that bastard was sound to sleep. By the way, by make it I meant getting all the up the stairs, but unable to make the turn that led to upper floor and the doorway that would have landed me victory and triumph. Instead, I laid down on the large than usual step and began to think with my moral value of people sleeping taking some sort of hold… which made my trip useless.
And that was the next one on my list, sadness. With me feeling worthless and unable to move, I thought of my mother and how I never had her. How it was my fault that she went down that route and I should have never existed. I began to cry and call out to her in a sad attempt to reach her but I failed and she didn’t come, which only made things worst. How I was a bad boyfriend because I didn’t have a good paying job and career because my girlfriend didn’t want to go to college and I agreed to stay behind, wasting my life away. How I didn’t deserve the caring and loving girlfriend that I had, who was currently there trying to talk to me even though I couldn’t understand what she was saying. How I wasn’t going to amount to shit in my life because I’m great big hemp of wasted talent who put on some some extra pounds from constant eating and wasted my time playing videos game instead of bettering myself. How I couldn’t write anything without first reading or watching something only to come up with something that was stupid and unreadable.
I cried tears that I never thought I could and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I had to watch and listen, helpless.
It was like all the weight I was shouldering suddenly fell and oddly I felt relieved. That even though this was utterly pitiful, I would have never said any of these things sober. I would have kept them inside and hidden from the world.
It would have been great if I wasn’t drooling from the mouth with half of the things I said being inaudible getting caught in my throat by the saliva I couldn’t swallow. So in my current state, I could have swore to you I would have been able to speak in caveman; in moans, groans, and grunts and would have been understood if someone around me knew the language. Damn English speakers and their fancy words!
By this point, all of my friends had arrived to see the spectacle and got a good laugh out of it. I saw them approach me and attempt to get me to response, but at this point was utterly brain dead. I was like a vegetable. I was talking in my head but there nothing coming out. All my functions was beginning to shut down and I tempted to go sleep right there hanging on the railing of the stairs. That didn’t help with my girlfriend desperately trying to return to my room to go to sleep.
When my body finally found the strength to lift up the tons of weight I possess and get back downstairs, when I hit the bed…I went straight to sleep. And all of this happened within three hours. I out before the super bowl ended.
When I stirred awake the next day, I had a headache that should have bothered my entire family as if we were jointed and my pain was on the edge for tearing my entire timeless apart. I rolled in the bed only to find a pool of moisture underneath me and on my shorts. The horror on my face was priceless.
I pissed myself in the bed. Something I didn’t even do when I was little.
And when I woke up, everyone else was woke and upstairs talking about last night.
Never got drunk again after that.