The Moment

I realize now that I asked late and you’re probably working right now, so I’ll just go ahead and post something anyways. My bad. The offer still stands though. If there’s anything you want to see me write, let me know and I’ll do my best. Today’s Friday, so you have no excuse not to when you get home from work.

This post is going to be 100% dialogue, but not a play. This was a prompt I found last night that seemed interesting and I immediately thought of a story I read in the New Yorker over the summer. I’m also going to combine it with another prompt that requires me to start with “I just found out that I make better decisions when I’m drunk.”

 

The Moment

“I just found out that I make better decisions when I’m drunk. How? Alright, I’ll tell you.”

“But don’t get me wrong; if I drink too much, I’ll be sloppy, but there is a moment after a certain number of drinks where everything seems to make sense, and not in a depressing way. For this to happen, you need to be in the right environment.

“It’s up to you though, determining what kind of environment is right. Like, me, I like to be in bars. Not dive bars, though. Those are dark and bring out truths that you stuff down deep inside and never plan on bringing out, but as the night goes on, you start talking to the guys around you–they’re all older than you, too, if you never noticed–and they talk about their problems.

“And these problems are real problems, like dealing with divorces, getting laid off–which at their age, is more like a death sentence in today’s economy, and just stuff that you won’t have to worry about for years.”

“Sure, your problems seem very real to you; there’s no denying that. But in the grand scheme of things, you’ll look back and laugh at what you thought was a big deal. Your parents must have told you this. I can’t be the first to tell you. You can’t be totally clueless. You’re twenty one, right? Out of college? No? Well you will be soon. And when you are done, there won’t be a sense of freedom, a desire to explore the world, or anything; not in this economy.”

“Right, the moment. That’s what happens when you stop caring about how much you drink. You lose focus. I haven’t had too much to drink tonight–believe me, you’d know if I had too much–but there have been many nights where I did have too much, and I think I permanently fucked my head up. It’s tough to remember things even when I’m sober, which has been–

“Fuck! Don’t let me get distracted! I can just go on and on. What were we talking about? No, don’t. The moment.

“The moment comes when I’m in a real bar, where like, people can get up and dance, and beautiful women are everywhere. When you’re in the moment, everything is beautiful, even the one chubby girl hanging around the girls you’d normally want to fuck. You know you can go up to anyone you want and just make some kind of connection. We’re all human, afterall, right? There’s some kind of energy present that passes through all of us, and I think deep down–subconsciously, I mean–we’re aware of it, but only for a moment, because we think we have to keep drinking to keep it going, but that’s wrong.

“There’s a trick. You can drink all night, but you have to space it out. Don’t have more than three drinks an hour. Well, have just enough to be a little past tipsy. Drink until you’re tipsy and then have one more, and then take a break. As soon as you start to feel yourself coming down, have another.”

“Why am I here? Because I want to be. Did you notice I don’t even have a drink? I just come here to get out of the home. I told you before, my head’s fucked. Doctor says if I keep drinking, I’ll be dead in less than a year. I don’t want to die. I love life. If I could, I’d live forever.”

“Sure, I understand that death is what makes life so special, but if you’re dead, you’re not alive, and nothing is special.”

“No I didn’t have anything to drink. Who the fuck do you think I am? Did you even listen to anything I was saying? I don’t drink! You drink. You’re already drunk. You’re the bad guy, not me.

“I need to be here. I need to tell someone I’m afraid. That was my decision, a great decision, too. I need you. I need to talk to you, I mean. It’s the only way I can get on with my life, knowing that I’ll be dead soon.”

“You can’t smell shit. Don’t look at the bartender, he doesn’t know shit either. None of you know shit, you’re all drunk, I’m not drunk! Fuck you all! Fuck this bar! Fuck! Don’t throw me out!”

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