Friday, April 23, 2010

shit balls

shotgunning a beer
reckless on the backyard grass
where did my pants go?

Paper towel roll
says "Shut the fuck up Donny!"
Paper Walter glares.

lounging in my chair
tell everyone "I don't care"
then cry when you stare

Jam out on those ukes!
I'll sit here and drink my beer
piss myself later.

Little, Little Gnome
Not quite a man, yet bearded
you make me nervous

Backwashy boozin
Second guess the last flat swig
Fuck it. Drink it up.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010


I am going to vomit all over the place. Good morning!

Sunday, April 18, 2010

The Unbearable Lightness of Peeing: Chapter II -- Big Slur

Anybody who calls themselves a serious drinker has a hangover cure. I've been told of homespun remedies ranging from greasy diner potatoes to the highly theoretical "hair of the dog." And being a student of Philosophy, I am inclined to the latter.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

The Unbearable Lightness of Peeing: Chapter I -- Cal Folly

Ever since the National Minimum Drinking Age Act of 1984, turning twenty-one is the single most important event in the life of an American youth. Though I was already intimate with the effects of the cocktail prior to turning twenty-one, the significance of the date as a societal rite of passage weighed heavy on me; I knew I had to enter the age of inebriation with confetti, streamers, and a big sweaty brass band. My first inclination was to get married in Vegas and paint the town proverbially red. However, after asking, drunkenly, several of my female friends for their hand and getting drinks thrown in my face in reply, I decided on the next best thing: I would fill my trunk up with a preposterous quantity of hooch and go camping with the guys in Henry Miller's Big Sur.

Thursday, April 1, 2010