Alcoholics Misnomymous

So lucid, calming, sweet. Two bottles of Port and one of Oak Aged Muscat. In a week and a half. Enhanced wine is wonderful.

Keith said the other day when you start drinking by yourself things are really downhill. I disagree. It's rock bottom, but it feels great in a masochistic way.

Gus is back till Sunday, great story teller as he is, Japan sounds hilarious. Jay is spent from building a whole village as a Combat Engineer.

After Jamming last week dinner with Ina, Hussin, and TJ was good. At Lau Pa Sat we sat after eating talking for 2 hours about games. I like hussin, i could say our ice is melted. Ina seems to take TJ better now, hope we all become closer freinds somewhat. Not over games, but it's something. Tara called, her voice is joy. He had her birthday with Sydney's Mardi Gras, stories that intrigue and are wondrous to me.

California Pizza the night before the Lau Pa Sat. John, Ina, TJ, Siti, her bro and her freind. Cool beans, really filled stomachs.

Just came back from queueing for China Black (sic), then waiting for bus to go O Bar. I left before the bus came, sleepy, and i got DO Duty later. Yeah yeah, everything sucks, i've had a bad week, work saps my verve, blah blah blah. Tawny Port is my salve, balm to my aching soul.

I miss music. My discman charger is broken, i've been without aural pleasure for weeks. I need it more. Muse in my ears now must last me for tomorrow at least. I'll bring the Sideways DVD to duty, at least indulge in a good show after i finish the work i couldn't do during the work during my tour of duty later. Some port will follow, inebriation softening the edginess i contract from teetering on oblivion.

Bang called while i was on my way home. His reason was coz he thinks theres a spyware in my com sending him invites to a mobile network. He calls me for this. For This. He hasn't called in ages and when he does it's for this. I've called him for the past few months. For no reason than other to be in his company. I watch his play, i support his gigs. Fine, he doesn't reciprocate, he's not obliged. But he calls me out of the blue, instead of for a periodical renewal of a great freindship forged in our similar artistic romantic dreams, but for some triviality - exemplifying what my standing to him has become apparantly. Fuck. And whenever he brushes me off when i call, it was just me whoring for some brotherly love lost. Fuck you Xibin, I'm beyond your self-centered gripe of unfairness, i don't give you any of the shit that you complain your life gives, does it mean i don't fit into your comfy little security of self effacing wit?

I've applied for Emily Carr. But the simple possibility of not seeing Tara again for the next 4 years is... beyond my descriptive ability. Port isn't the answer, but it blunts the cuts.