And she was

Since leaving work on Thursday I have dedicated myself to appearring to not exist. This is so far not working out very well and I can only assume that the main cause of this would be that I am still inclined to go out in public where I will inevitably see people I know and then feel obligated to either a)dive behind a tree and pretend I did not see them or b)engage in conversation.
Due to the battle my sinuses have been conducting against my body I have been in a strange haze for the last two days that is only exasperbated by the double dose of NyQuil I took last night before falling asleep. The NyQuil hangover is nothing to be trifled with. Whereas one can awake from a night of swilling vodka and tonics and feel like death on Twizzler legs it is still possible to function at a pace that is semi-convincing that nothing out of the ordinary is going on. And, should you be me then in fact, nothing out of the ordinary would be going on as that's a pretty regular state of being . Except the vodka, I don't drink much vodka. It erases too many memories of the previous night. Oh, now, of course, the same can be done on beer and brandy and whisky but vodka does it with such swiftness and completeness that it is a little too terrifying to deal with on an ordinary Tuesday. Best saved for special occassions.
And yeah, I have been trying unsucessfully to appear to not exist. My first attempt failed, when on Thursday I walked into a local club and was instantly recognized by several people who then instantly helped me get into a horrible state of drunkeness. In my defense I hadn't eaten much and was fighting either the worst allergy attack of my life or the naggingest summer cold I've had all year. Two days later and I'm still not sure. Right, so, there I was having had maybe 5 (maybe and I think 3 is the right number to be honest) drinks and I was so fucked up I was sure I would pass out on the street as soon as I left the club. So, of course I initially agreed to go to the bar next door. In a rare and desperate grasp at clarity my brain forced me to state that I would be going home RIGHT NOW! Despite protestations that I lived 5 minutes away and I hadn't had near as much to drink as everyone else and that I was being a pussy I stumbled to the door wishing everyone a good eve and on the way home nearly ran my car off the side of the road when I either a)almost fell asleep at the wheel or b)realized that there was a cop sitting at the stop sign at the next block and if I got stopped I would lose my license and probably end up in the Davidson County Jail or maybe c) I somehow managed to do both of these things simultaneously. Amazingly neither of these things happened as the cop turned away from where I was going and my internal dialogue's interpretation of events is highly more dramatic than what is actually happening.
One could theorize I came very close to making myself non-existant on Thursday night but I really think that the 12 hour work day and the fact that I got home in time to see my 21st hour of wakefulness strike might have contributed significantly to my state of mind. Not that I wasn't shit faced mind you-I was, and I take full responsibility for my idiocy in this situation. I should've just stayed home and watched Will and Grace. Hindsight, is, as they say, 20/20.
for the second time in a week I woke up in a ratty t-shirt with the covers wrapped around my legs with only the vaguest idea how I had gotten there. The first time was caused by a rather long day sitting outside drinking free beverages at yet another local bar's 2 year anniversary. In that case, however, I am almost certain that I sat and watched TV for a couple of hours after getting home andbefore going to bed and that leaves me to think that the reason I didn't remember undressing and actually crawling into bed was I had fallen asleep on the couch rendering the latter part of the evening boring and not worth remembering. Sadly, many of my nights are like this. I will wake up the next morning and have absolutely no memory of how I spent the evening for the first hour I am awake. When the evening begins to re-assemble itself in my brain I will rememeber I had tuna and tomato for dinner, watched soem incarnation of Law and Order and fell asleep during the Andy Griffith show just like I do roughly 3-4 nights a week. Not only am I a lousy cook without cable I am also so boring my life causes temporary amnesia.
AHH but I was on the subject of my attempt to blend into the crowd. Yesterday I awoke full of life and ready to face the day and do something fun. Except for the fact that I couldn't breathe and it hurt to swallow and every time I spoke more than 3 consecutive words I collapsed into a coughing fit I was feeling great. Also I was exhausted but unable to sleep. I laid on the couch for 3 hours watching children's programming on PBS (my thoughts on that would fill another long and equally self-absorbed entry) I eventually gave up and spent several hours making uninformative and uninteresting phone calls to my mother, watching daytime TV and conversating non-sensically withing the realms of cyberburbia. Then I napped off and on for maybe 4 hours. Waking up I gave in to the urge to take OTC drugs that make me wonky as hell and act in an irrational manner similar to that of people on high priced street drugs in order that I may be able to breathe for a few hours. Then I drove to Shopryland to see Dale Watson play at the Plaza.
Somewhere in the 5 mile drive I rationalized that I needed an extra large Chick-o-Stick and a pack of Necco wafers. Not wanted mind you, NEEDED I became much agitated in the parking lot of the mall due to the fact that fuckin motorcycles were taking up full spaces thus leaving me to park in a space just about 2 blocks from the Williamson county line. And I was extra agitated by the fact that the sumbitch that rearended me the other week and is playing all sorts of fun asshole games with the insurance company had a REALLY GOOD parking spot and was probably out eating at Jillians and having a gay old time thinking he'll never have to pay a dime of insurance. OH and did I mention the 45 year old counter guy at Hollywood Video was rude to me? Now, I admit I probably looked and sounded stoned out of my mind, the DayQuil was fucking with my head pretty royally and I had convinced myself that I was actually shrouded in a net of gauzy mist that moved with me wherever I went and protected me from being unwillingly seen or harmed in any way. I should probably not take DayQuil. Right so he was rude to me because I asked whether or not there was any way to find out if a movie was on the shelf before driving over only to find out that it wasn't (no, I doubt I phrased it quite that well, I probably said something like, "Uh, like, the movies? If it's not in, is there, um, a way to check before I come...in? Could, I call?") His response, set me on edge however as he said, "It's first come first serve ma'am." Not being in a Q haze I would say that was a reasonable response but at the time I actually had to sit in my car and compose myself and talk myself down from going back in and asking him what the fuck he was thinking being so fucking rude to me and I'ma a paying customer with honest questions and then I probably would've ended up in the Davidson County Jail. A lot of my fantasies end with me in jail-usually alone in a cell in near darkness sitting on a wooden bench staring at my hands while somewhere someone plays a mournful tune on the harmonica. Of course, I don't need to tell you that my mind's camera pans back on this and the scene slowly dims to complete blackness. Not only do I only have a couple of mental plotlines to work with but they all insist on being cliche.
Where was I? At the Opry seeing Dale Watson. Or actually, first I saw that I had missed the first set by the first act so I just set up my chair and went to the mall. I hate malls, I hate shopping, I do not get any great pleasure from purchase as most purchases are fraught with the knowledge that unless what I'm buying is toilet paper or gasoline I do not NEED IT Not unlike the purchase of the candy-even those there was need not having it would not in any way render my life undesirable to continue. But, I do not enjoy shapping because there simply is no extra cash for such events. That coupled with the fact that malls draw me in for the same reason they repulse me-the conspicuous consumption and the noise make me sick, the parade of the young, perfectly attired and the horrifyingly thin intermixed with the not so young and embarassingly overweight and badly dressed I feel the not very original feeling whenever I go into Opry Mills that one day Jesus is going to show up and run down the walkway knocking over the carts selling personalized necklaces just like Ted Neeley in Jesus Christ Superstar. I kind of would feel bad if I missed that.
Anyway, I went to Barnes and Noble and very confusedly and feeling as if water was rushing around my ears and that I might drown very soon stumbled around trying to find Chuck Klosterman's new book. And I suppose that it is becaues I bought that that I am writing this. Because, really, if he can get praise for writing about the women that he loves and a road trip that essentially seemed to boil down to having no meaning and the lot of drugs he enjoys doing and where and with whom then I can write about my Friday nght in a Q induced roll.
It is obvious now that I wsa trying to act like a person that is trying to act like a person who is acting normal. It is also obvious, that I failed. I sat and read for the first hour of the show until it got too dark to see. I was drinking herbal tea in 85 degree heat and gnawing on strange and unpleasant candy all the while. I also had positioned my folding chair right on the very edge of the main walkway so that everyone who had to go pee or get a fruit smoothie would have to walk right by me and then I have to pretend I didn't see them and hope that they didn't see me because at the time I was relatively certain I had lost the ability to speak. Not only had I lost my ability to speak I was becoming more and more certain that I was invisible and that nothing I did would seem at all strange. Luckily, I couldn't come up with anything strange and I just sat in my chair with my head lolled lazily against the back of the chair looking as if I might at any moment fall into a deep and long lasting sleep.
While all of this was going on I was able to determine that I was able to pick out by name about 15-20 people in the crowd. Most of whom I have carried on long and terribly interesting and life altering conversations with at one time or another. Some of whom I would even consider to be friends, or at the very least, regular drinking buddies. So, my only recourse, since I knew all of these people and they would likely all offer a polite "hi" if not an invitation to conversation was to try very very hard to blend in with the crowd of tourists as they filed out of the plaza and into the parking lot. I can tell you that while no one said anything to me I felt several eyes cast in my direction and I couldn't help but wonder if I was imagining this (as the stoned are paranoid) or if I wsa actually being watched and people were wondering what the hell I was doing skulking out with my head bent down and pace quick. Thank goodness no one spoke to me as I do not believe I would've been able to say anything-which would've been uncomfortable.
When I got home I took the hound out and fearing that I would wake up convulsing with coughs and unable to swallow I opened the bottle of NyQuil in my kitchen cabiinet and mis-dosed myself swallowing half of the bottle in the process. I slept REAL GOOD last night.
In fact, I might still be asleep right now