Writing Under Influence

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NO you are not the ONLY one who does anything under influences. As a matter of fact the most creative, beautiful, and meaningfull works come from us while underr influences.

Eggs and chocolate?

I usually end up driving so I keep things pretty much under control (which is a good thing).



Yep, me too. The clarity of my posts (and the number of word choice/tense errors) is usually related to how many things I'm trying to do at once, or how tired I am rather than whether or not I'm drinking.

He sort of laughed, but he was a little odd about it. We dated again after that and again. We still keep in touch and like each other quite a bit. So, no harm done.

Well it was well meant and showed you cared. It's a compliment more than anything, so of course he should have and did take it well. Or well enough anyway.

One of my best friends is a priceless riot when drunk. He does the best impersonation of the former Pope and slips into this role after few beers. Or wine spritzers. He is a bit more tamed now, but he used to go stand in the middle of crossroads and direct traffic as a Pope. The Pope spoke Slovak with a thick Polish accent and there was no mistaking this impersonation for anything else ('Brothers Slovaks, God is merciful. The right lane can turn right now. Heavenly Father wants you to stop. Let traffic from this side proceed".....etc.) . Plus, we'd always help with crafting a hat and whatever else we could put together.
He didn't get out of the role even when the policeman came to drag him off the street. Luckily he never got arrested for this... but he did get beaten once when he was telling a Serb "M-16s on you!". The Serb had no sense of humor, I tell you.

It's Easter. Kids were coloring eggs, wife boiled some extra just for me, and I almost devoured an entire 16 oz bunny...

..actually got a bit of a buzz.

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er...no, you only think you are being creative, beautiful and meaningful.

ask a straight/sober person who's around you when you're being this way. They'll tell you that you were just being a bore.

I don't know Chai... Picasso must have been pretty baked...

I think it's fine to write while under the influence, as long as you are able to edit once you have sobered up. Note: This does not apply to Rock or Jazz music. (the second part)

Just think how good he would have been if he wasn't crocked!

Salvador Dali wouldn't have been remembered.

I had one of my odd successful threads, either here or on another site, the old abuzz, successful because, never mind me as the thread person, the answers were useful/illuminating and, as it happens, not always in agreement. That was called Alcohol and Creativity.. and I managed to save the thread back when Abuzz folded. Too bad it's on my old computer.

I've saved some of my bits written on yellow legal pads when I've had a glass or two. I still like those saved bits.

Alternately, much has been dross - but not all so dumb to look at and see what was the pain (whatever) of the moment.

I lived with a hooker for a week. Hopping from Motel to Motel.



And yes, we did.

What?

WHAT??? Come on, tell.

One night, me and the Winger got drunk with the girls at the French House at a major university, but had to get out of Dodge when the "matron" found us on the premises. So we got in the Grannymobile (our friend and Winger's roommate had his grandmother's four-door sedan, while she was on an extended visit for medical treatment and to stay with kin she rarely saw).

First we drove straight across campus--and i do mean straight across, because we drove on the sidewalks on the quadrangle. Just in time, we saw a campus cop who squealed on his brakes and drove up onto the sidewalks to intercept us. God was looking out for drunks that night, because it became like one of those passages in a cartoon--we'd drive out from behind a building, and the cop would be crossing in the other direction on the other side of the quad. We'd drive behind another building, and when we came out again, he'd be on the other side, driving in the opposite direction. Eventually, and don't ask me how, we managed to escape the quadrangle, and onto a city street without getting stopped. Fortunately, Winger didn't drive fast even when sober. We decided to head home.

So, we ended up on the wrong street, with the huge athletic field between us and the street Winger lived on, which was behind the street i lived on. So, no problem, Winger drives up onto the field, and along the outfield fence of the baseball diamond. Suddenly, Winger stops by a gate in the fence, and slowly turns to look at me. I shouted: "No . . . don't do it!" and began laughing hysterically. So he turns, gets a good distance off (on the running track which the track team trains on), and then turned and gunned it, running straight into the gate, and smashing onto the outfield. Then he drives down to home plate, and slams on the brakes, slewing to a stop facing the pitchers mound. We then went into a really stupid and, to us, hilarious play by play for a ball game. The Winger got a hit! He slammed it into low gear, and punched it, and we just made it to first base. He spun her around, and lead off a little toward second. Then . . . he jumps, the pitcher flinches, and Winger throws it into low and steals second! After that it was tense for a while, two men out, full count on the batter--then the batter loops one into right center! Winger is off like a shot, he rounds third still running and slides into home plate . . . safe! He scores, we win!

Then we saw a campus cop in the distance, who might have been our late friend. So, with more presence of mind than any two drunks ought to have, Winger turns out the lights, and i lean out the window (risking decapitation) and guide him across the outfield and out the gate. We drive east over the rest of the field, and into the alleys till we get to Winger's house.

The next day, Mike asked me why the bumper on the Grannymobile was all scratched up, and i played dumb: "Huh, whaddya mean?" (Damned Winger got up and left the house before Mike got up.) He takes me outside and shows me . . . which was when he noticed the huge hunk of turf and dirt jammed in up under the front bumper on the passenger side . . .

Thats pretty good Set. Ahh the good ol' days when we didn't know any better.

Remember waking up in bed and wondering how it could you were in your own bed in one peice?

Yes ladies It's true. Within that week I lived in the very trenches of the sex trade, Organized gangs, Class and race devisions, ilicit drug use.

The life, the explotation and the degredation of the prostitute.

In the end, when I was leaving her there to go back to go back to my normal life I discoverd that she had developed feeling and that I, without knowing it, had hurt her one more time. Women are stronger then men.

She taught me a thing or two about sex. The lighter side is very funny.

Amigo, there aren't very many people who would have noticed or cared about her feelings. I think that says something pretty wonderful about you.

Suffering creates Beauty and compassion. That is it's devine purpose.

If there is such a thing as the devine.