Yesterday I swore that I would never drink again after having the most lingering hangover of my life. Not the worst. Not the most intense. Not the most debilitating. Just the most persistent. I was nauseous all day, but it wasn't in my stomach. It was in my head. How can you have nausea in your head? No good. It was peppermint tea and Ibuprofen all day. All I've had since my declaration was a glass of red wine a few hours ago. I'll probably be back to boozing it up booze-style next weekend, but, sweet Christ, I've gotta tone it down a notch or two. Also, I couldn't keep my fucking mouth shut. I always think I'm being witty when I'm drunk, but actually I'm just drunk. Maybe I should start doing drugs again. Yeah, that's it. I will begin a fortnight of copious drug binging on the morrow. I think I always overdo it at get-togethers because I don't know what the fuck to do with my hands. Do I put them in my pockets? Clasp them in front of me? Behind my back? Hang them limply from my sides? Swing them back and forth? Clench them? What? Putting a constant stream of beers in them, removing the bottle caps, placing them in receptacles. This solves the problem. But it creates others. So nauseous. So sleepy. So obnoxious. Goodnight, everybody.
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