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parasitegirlIn high school there was part of me that was very afraid that I would end up with the genetic gift of alcoholism...it was what kept me from trying alcohol early on in high school . In college there was a time in which I drank more than I should have, but learned that I have never had much of a tolerance...and when I stopped hanging with alcoholic/poet/painters my tolerance dropped even lower. I literally don't have it in me to abuse alcohol...my body refuses it quickly on.
I am thankful for not getting those genes. I am even glad about realizing that I have bouts of depression but that they can be managed in various ways, and sometimes may require medication, but that my genes do not even allow for alcohol as a self medicating option.
I am...
but I am not going to be that thankful for tomorrow's hang-over...tomorrow's induced by only 4 glasses of wine hangover.
Still, sloppy as I am now...when some mother fucker doubled back on his bike to get a closer look at the foreign hotty he'd passed, and crowded me on the sidewalk in oggling, and reached an arm around me to "steady me" ...my low tolerance meant that I was not soooooo blotto that I couldnt't brandish a wrist-sized tribal ring in his face, tell him, in Japanese, not to touch me, and furthermore inform him that he'd better bike quickly before I used my free hand to call the police about a gaijin stalker.
sweet dreams.
I for one am drinking Pocari Sweat until the room settles.
night night.
I am thankful for not getting those genes. I am even glad about realizing that I have bouts of depression but that they can be managed in various ways, and sometimes may require medication, but that my genes do not even allow for alcohol as a self medicating option.
I am...
but I am not going to be that thankful for tomorrow's hang-over...tomorrow's induced by only 4 glasses of wine hangover.
Still, sloppy as I am now...when some mother fucker doubled back on his bike to get a closer look at the foreign hotty he'd passed, and crowded me on the sidewalk in oggling, and reached an arm around me to "steady me" ...my low tolerance meant that I was not soooooo blotto that I couldnt't brandish a wrist-sized tribal ring in his face, tell him, in Japanese, not to touch me, and furthermore inform him that he'd better bike quickly before I used my free hand to call the police about a gaijin stalker.
sweet dreams.
I for one am drinking Pocari Sweat until the room settles.
night night.
