Big Brother
 Wine and Spirits
 Keeping it Reel
 White Noise
 Fist Deep
 Bar Crawl

Clots in the Bloodstream

We only hurt the ones we love...
What a gloomy goddamned Christmas. The rain couldn’t wash away the burnt, crisp smell from the husks of a thousand million imploded brain cells. The alcohol is all gone, yet the neuroses remain. Why is it that the more you drink, the emptier you feel?

I awoke with an unusual laser-sharp clarity. There was old, dried blood down the entire arm of my shirt and on the sheets. I inspected myself and found no cuts or marks anywhere. Some days you wake up and feel like there is no God, others you can feel his eyes burning through you.

Being a drinker is like trying to answer a telephone with a shotgun… there is always collateral damage. The intentions are almost always for the best, but the results leave something to be desired …like a virus it infects everyone in close proximity to it, and leaves the others in the outer circle maimed and crippled. There is the camaraderie, the sheer joy of being in the moment and sifting through the haze and then there is the dark side, the one we never like to think about …two sides of the same brutal coin.

Walking that line is a delicate and violent high wire act and for those of us that do it, we know that it’s a job best left to the professionals. There are those who cannot move with the flow, that cannot help but push things too far. An ugly breed enslaved by their addiction to sensory overload. Members of an odd skeleton crew, hardwired to self destruct, polluting everything that surrounds them, ingesting anything available, running from things unseen.

We are the ones with ghosts in our skulls…
We are the eternal letdown…
We are the clots in the bloodstream…


Jonny O
December 27th, 2005