Up In Drink

Live Earth was interesting to watch from a close distance. Such an odd ego that came out of the performers, and (one must think) the attendees. We’re here to save the world! Get the fuck out of here. You’re there to get drunk and see if The Police can pull off an entire set without shitting their pants. And they can. But save the world?

…Ah, it is just jealously, what Hova calls a weak emotion. I badly wanted to attend that concert. But New Jersey is a den, and to get there would have a required a massive amount of effort fueled by Jameson, plus painkillers, that I just was not in any shape to pull off. I did make the Metropolitan game though. Talk about a Boozefest.

In fact, my entire trip was a bit of a drink-a-thon. Everywhere I went people wanted to drink with me, and since I clearly had nothing better to do, it turned into 13 straight days of mayhem. Drinking on the beach, on mountains, in outdated stadiums, in the middle of streets, on Fire Island, in the Hamptons, in low class Montauk parties and high-class Montauk parties, on trains in Ronkokama (pronounce it as Dracula would), in the woods, in bars, on boats, barges, ferries and power-ships, in basements and on lakefronts, in bathtubs, on Boeing 737s, and, of course, in retirement homes. Now my side hurts.

I really enjoy traveling though. It is a goal of mine to figure out how to travel and get paid for it (good luck with that). Now that I’m back on the native terra firma it gets more interesting. And all thanks need to be directed at the college for scheduling the Arts & Sciences graduation at 7:30 A.M., as that should just make it easier for me to pull off an all night bender.

But it’s back to business now. I must investigate some things (starting with these people called Clinton’s, I have a feeling about them). And I need a job, or so people tell me. We’ll see about that.