All The Nights We Felt Alive.

The waves of late have been really fun but slightly lacking and I was looking and thinking about different aspects of life, and how, I seem to have pigeon holed myself into very few categories of the many aspects of the lives of so many people that surround me, after a few weeks of thinking about this and going out a few times it was put to me that I should get drunk. Not that the suggestion had not been brought forth so many times before, with me rejecting it with no intention or even remote thought of acting upon the suggestions . But on Saturday night after years of sobriety I decided it was time, and in a fantastic blur of glory it all came crashing down. With inhibitions lowered and my vocal tone immensely increased my night went a little like this. It started at the Prince with shots, way too many shots with a seemingly permanent drink stuck to my hand, before long I was in the street sucking southern comfort straight out of a bottle before heading to Fitzies. I proceeded to heckle Jesse at work, through glasses at him and spit on him, I was actually spitting on everything including myself. So many things were going on around me that I can't quite remember everything, a 50 year old man tried to fight me for wearing a hoody. I screamed in the face of my now current boss/ the owner of the pub we were drinking at for giving me more shots of tequila. I was screaming that I was intoxicated and that this was not responsible service of alcohol, two more shots of tequila down and I was feeling pretty good about myself. Finally 3:40 arrived and I am in a taxi on my way home. Pieces of the night are still falling into place but thats all that I have for now, besides lots of terrible photos!

The start of the night.

Drink number 3.Skulling Southern Comfort. I don't know.

I don't know.

Just before leaving time, which was probably a really good idea!