era ender

Well, I monumentally marked the end of a few eras this week.  All at once.  Era marking should always be done en mass.  Scooter, Waldo, and Lex had to move out of their house.  A house which has been lived in for the last 3 or 4 years at least by friends of mine.  7 friends of mine cycled through.  Its the place where I lay on sunday afternoons naked with Waldo, the place where I made up with Lucy and Linus, the place I ran to for comfort during more than a few deaths and other disasters.  I partied there.  I had near relgious experiences fueled by psychedillics there.  And finally this week I threw up there.  Really surprised it didnt happen before that.  Oh all the sex I walked in on, oh all the sex I had.  Oh dear god the dancing and the hangovers and the hangover breakfasts!  No more.

The last sure night we would have to party there was Thurday.  I bought a bottle of margaritas but warmed up with some coolers at my place at 7:30 while I waited for the band to stop jamming so I could go over.  I hate being around during jamming as the band politics can seem sort of harsh and confrontational at times.  It makes me uncomfortable.  So I had 3 vodka coolers and a few swigs of margarita and headed on my way.  I had tried to cook a last supper, but Im no cook so it sucked and I just didnt tell anyone I even cooked anything.  Being the mutual house wife I think it was rather shocking. 

I got there and the band had started jamming late so at 8:30 they were still in full swing.  I sat down on a forsaken punching bag and began drinking my margaritas with gusto.  Jackson showed up and spilled a tiny sippette of my margaritas.  This entitled me to as much of his booze as I cared for.  And how I cared for it!  Jamming ceased at 9.  I was already bombed.  Now forgive the utter lack of details.  But somewhere between the bottle of margs and the half bottle of Jackson’s Schnapps (big bottle not little bottle) someone found a bag of little kids clothes under the stairs.  I immediately stripped down and put everything I could on.  Several sweaters and 2 dresses which, upon reviewing the pictures…..were fucking tiny.  I looked like Courtney Loves black soul seeping into a gutter.  At this point I was no longer myself.  I was belligerent and rowdy where as I usually make a cuddley fun drunk.  I threw several empty bottles at Jackson….I then chugged Waldo’s and Doc’s beers everytime they had one just so they couldnt drink them.  Doc sent me to check the corn on the BBQ and I grabbed the lid, making me think I had burned my hand…Utter mad chaos resulted.  Bottles were tossed.  Screams of agony echoed through the backwoods.  I believe I chucked some corn at some people.  Eventually I ended up seated drinking someone’s amaretto which I confess I dont remember AT ALL but I do recall Doc trying to feed me corn to keep me from ingesting more booze.  Because you cant eat and drink at the same time.  More corn was thrown.  This fact I remembered WHILE serving a customer at the library the next day.  And I started laughing.  Thats right I worked the next day.  This whole story put me to bed at 4 (mind you i passed out several times during the kerpuffle that was my evening) and I got up at 8 and worked the desk for 8 hours.  I.  Wanted.  To. Die.  I worked with someone Ive never even met before too.  And I dropped everything I touched.  She probably thinks I have a severe drug problem. 

Anyways.  Back to thursday night.  It wasnt even midnight yet and I was through.  I ran up stairs to commence vomitting.  I dont know how the avenues of my mind work but obviously not on a grid pattern.  I lay on the floor puking out my life, remembering seeing my very astranged father in the grocery store that day and just BAWLING like I could leave the unhappiness behind when everyone packed up and moved out.  I threw up more than Waldos ever seen one person throw up….and he missed the first half of it.  I managed to only vomit in the toilet though.  Round of applause.  Oh god.  So there I am in a little girl’s dress ( i had stripped down to only a dress  and my stockings at this point….and thankfully a pair of conservative enough underwear).  I just lay there….in a bachelor pad bathroom….Oh god.  Oh dear god the filth I must have been lying in.  And I thought about all the times I was molested in the bathroom at  my fathers house and I fucking cried like you have never witnessed before.  It was the most pure crying Ive ever done.  It wasnt for attention from god or man.  I honestly tried to stop myself so I could not be seen like that.  But Lex came up when he heard me fall from the sink where I had been giving myself a pep talk and a washing to the ground where I knocked my head on the toilet.  He turned the light on which was wretched.  But he helped me out also.  I think.  Someone eventually brought me blankets and a pillow.  He had to go move so I shoed him away.  Waldo and Jackson both came up several times that night.  As did Lex.  I dont remember how often, but often enough.  I kept blacking out when theyd leave to go pack up more stuff from the house.  And then Id wake again when they returned and start crying and throwing up some more.  Lex thought I was just feeling sick, Jackson thought I was sad about the house being not ours anymore, and poor waldo thought it was about him.  He even said we could go talk about it if I wanted to.  He was drunk….I was.  I was alcohol.  I had a measurable content.  Im sure.  Damn it all for not having a QED to test me out-although considering Panda went off the charts on st patty’s day-well i guess it wouldnt have mattered if we had measured me or not. 

Lex eventually had to leave and asked me if I wanted a ride.  Begged me to take one but I told him i wasnt ready.  So I cried for hours and eventually someone-Jackson I believe-though maybe it was Waldo since I cant imagine Jackson is big enough to carry me out while Im that unruly…. realized Id be better not lying in old stubble from morning shaves and dried piss from drunken bathroom trips and he picked me up and brought me to the hall.    Oh it was Jackson.  I remember him now giving me a back rub in the gaping hole of my little girls dress that was too tiny to zip in the back.  And Waldo came up later.  And we talked about me leaving all the shit behind and just leaving it in the house.  I told them I wasnt taking any of it it with me and they said thats fine.  Knowing I was drunk and rambling and making zero sense.  Waldo got me to my feet, bundled me up in childrens clothing and helped me carry things home.  Scooter laughed at how messed I was and lent me a coat.  On the walk home-a walk not unlike the walks with Waldo that led us to fall in love last fall-we talked about what he would do now and totally avoided my own giagantic pain.  I got home.  And I did what I needed to do.  I emailed the three centurian gau

rds of my booze-addled corpse and told them about how I had seen my father in the grocery store and then got so upset and so drunk and so stuck in a washroom and it was just a huge terrible mind fuck.  I told them about being molested for 17 years.  They were the first to know.  then I told my val nice rack who said any combination of "jesus" "oh god" and "fuck" over and over again.  then I went to bed.  And i got up in 4 hours took a dose of cupboard pills and went to work.

and now 48 hours later I am almost not hung over.  And I feel like the end of my silence is over.  And it is fucking wonderful.  Who said too drunk is too drunk?  Im just so glad that I can die tomorrow and someone else will know that fucker is a pedeophile.  He cant get a way with it completely.  I hope as long as he lives, somewhere there is a person glaring at him and wishing him death.