Feeling: sleep-deprived
Listening to: Good Charlotte- Superman Can't Walk
Reading/Watching: watching "Where the Heart Is"

The first touch is abhorrent on the tongue
sharp and fetid,
weaving up nostrils and clenching on tonsils,
doubling back for one last
caress, sweetening the taste.
it slides down easily, but radiates back up,
warm
fizzing into brain
loosening giggles and careless speech

I tilt my head, cheeks burning, and cross my legs again.

The second swallow is simpler
(smoothed by the first)
Over the tongue, and down, billowing
through belly and legs as heat
thickening eyelashes and echoing in my forehead
Just between the eyes.

More confidence and Crown in a cup. For the girl who's silly on her own, and needs no help. I begin to wonder why I'm doing this, as my lap warms, my face flames, and I know my eyes are bright.

Standing, the room does not sway
(we're still several shots away from that)
in the mirror, my face is the same
albeit a bit flushed.
And my voice is the same
But a band of hornets circle madly behind my eyes
wrapping me in fog.

My stomach is not very happy with me. It wanted dinner, not Captain Morgan. Although I suppose it's a relief that I get the headache while I'm drinking, instead of the next morning? Bri and I left a little bit after one, and I remembered why I don't drink very much. It's just not very special.

Although, I've noticed that when I could use a drink, I have no means of obtaining one, because I'm alone. When I'm surrounded by alcohol, I'm usually happy and silly already from being with friends, and have no need for additional inducement. Funny, that little paradox. The only thing that changes when I've had a drink or two is that it's easier to blurt things out, tangle my words (which I do often enough, anyway), and have to extract myself.

But then, my chief source of amusement at those kinds of parties is laughing at other drunk people. I can do that stone-sober.

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