Some things are irresistible. For me, it was the taste of an ice-cold beer. I drank all the time, was at home as little as possible, smoked weed and slept until noon anytime I felt like it.
One afternoon, I stopped by an old bistro a few blocks from my apartment. It was an old-fashioned Chinatown joint and the tall buildings downtown were in sight. I was roaming the sidewalks, saw the establishment was open, and walked into it with the hope of finding my favorite brand of malt. Nothing but a cold beer and certainly no drugs. I ordered a bottle of whisky, slowly poured the drink over the ice, and vowed not to stop until I was drank. After a few shots, I nervously lit a cigarette and popped two Valiums. I was acting like a man who wanted to die but who had no courage to do it himself. I passed out.
Misery engulfed me as I awoke. Though I kept my eyes closed, they could not stop a fresh flow of tears. Then a velvet-haired fairy raised her voice and sang. I had never heard such a voice before. She yelled with delight and sang songs making fun of me. Alone with the fog and the owls, I stared all around her. Her skin was smooth. She had long hair pulled back loosely behind her neck and a perfect smile.
From somewhere in the shadows, two rabid mutts came helling out of the nearest bush. I forced my eyes on the glaring sky and searched for some hope to help me keep my sanity. Reality slowly settled in as the numbness began to fade. Every single person in the pub was staring at me. It was an ugly scene. I paid the bill, left the place and walked aimlessly until I reached my pad.
It was almost 10 pm. I went inside and stood at the kitchen with a blunt inches from my lips and tried to think. A lamp on a desk near a stove provided the only light. My eyes were watery but I refused to cry.