Anthony asked me if I would answer some questions. I said, “sure.” And now there’s a full interview that you can view on his site: When initially stumbling across this young, self-revealed HS drop-out, writer’ Lou Rasmus’ WordPress site, formerly known as ‘Drink and Smoke and Fuck’ I was left a bit queasy. His writing,Continue reading “Interview”
Snuck a bottle of whiskey into the coffee shop. Ordered a coffee. Turned it Irish. Then I sat down and got drunk. Turned myself Irish. Now I’m talking to myself with an accent. Shitty accent. Sounds more Scottish than Irish. Or kind of Australian. I’m bad with accents. Good with getting drunk, though. Why isContinue reading “Coffee Shop”
I don’t really remember yesterday, or anything from the last few weeks. I just know that my trash can is now overflowing with beer cans and there’s cigarette ash on my bedsheets, and joint roaches littered across the floor, and there’s cum in almost all of my socks. So I guess I’ve been masturbating aContinue reading “I Don’t Remember”
Coffee. Coffee. We’re drinking coffee to wake up. And we’re smoking weed to zone out. And we’re dragging cigarettes to balance the two. Then more coffee. More coffee to stay awake, because we get nervous when we’re groggy. But then it’s too much coffee. And we’re jittery, so we smoke more weed. Too much weed.Continue reading “Youth”
I walked down to the beach this morning, even though I don’t live by the ocean. Or any body of water. I just walked until I heard the sound of waves in my head. The smell of salt in my nose. None of it was real, but it felt good anyways. It felt like IContinue reading “Drowning”
I was supposed to work tonight, but I didn’t go. Jerry showed up with a thirty rack and some blow. He told me that we had to get fucked up, and that I had my whole life to work. I said “ok.” And then we each did a couple of lines and shotgunned a coupleContinue reading “Choices”
What does it matter that I’m on my phone, when everyone else is on their phone too. And what does it matter that I’m drunk in the afternoon, when everyone else is drunk too. Ok, well maybe not everyone. But I’m already drunk, so it’s too late to change that. Don’t judge me. Fuck off.
Thirteen drinks later and suddenly it’s Saturday. It was Friday the last time I checked. But now its Saturday. That’s ok. At least I have some idea of what’s going on. But this hangover keeps kicking me in the skull. Like a boot against a door. Fuck. I need to get to the liquor storeContinue reading “Drunk Blur”
I write the words, but then you have to read them in your head, so it’s almost like this poem is as much yours as it is mine. And I think you can take it from here. I’m gonna go have a drink.
I like my seat next to the tap, tap, tap… the faucet is dripping. Fuck. “Just gimme a beer,” I say to Phil, the bartender, and he gives me one on draft. Then another. Mix in a shot. Another beer. My gut is hot first, then my throat right before I vomit. Phil cleans itContinue reading “Tap”