Paul and I went to the market down the block from our school. The shop owner did not mind at all that we were buying a bottle of alcohol when we were clearly underage. We stowed our bottle far in the bottom of Paul's backpack making sure that it did not hit anything hard (the clink of glass would have alerted the ever vigilant authorities). Then we were off to my dorm where Paul would be spending the night.Since our last drinks we had rejected the faith of our forefathers. We had equated Christianity with repressive authoritarianism. We had fetishized alcohol as pure pleasure, an experience so all-encompassing as to have the power to upset religous hierarchies. Drinking was to us the embodiment of rebellion and the individual. So after months of quiet philosohpical recalibrations we finally had liqour within our grasps again, and it felt so fucking right.
As we were not about to take any chances, our drinking started after everyone had gone to bed. In my room, we poured our libations into a ceramic coffee mug that we shared between the two of us. At first the drink burned (it had been quite a while) so we took our time. We sat reveling in this historic moment and reading Far Side collections. As the night went on we sipped the whisky with more abondon. At some point it became obvious that even by our ridiculous standards this was drunkenness- not a sin anymore. We stood and punched each other to test theories of alcohol and pain. We laughed. We rejoiced. Mugfulls of Chivas flew down throats like single ounce shots. The bottle exhausted itself.
Paul fell asleep the wrong way on my spare bed on top of the covers. I vomitted in the sink.
And I have never been happier.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Filming
In the second semester of my tenth grade, my film project for bible class was a modernized version of the whole book of Acts. For the project, we provided several narrative changes that we though would provide more cohesion. We added demon characters to be nemeses that would also provide much of the exposition on the central action. Of course, these demons drank and smoked. In our one of our over-the-top celebrations of alcohol consumption we filmed the party that demons had upon hearing the news that Jesus was dead. Swigging tinted water from our favourite liqour bottles while cheering the death of Christ provided its own unique thrill.
Even more exciting was our depiction of Paul (the bible character, played by me) praying during his incarceration. My hearfelt prayers with my cellmate dripped with barely concealed contempt for the whole institution. We even raised our hands in that utterely evangelical motion of praise. If our chiding sarcasm was not detected, the viewer could always pause the film to see single frames of us raising our middle fingers to their religion.
In one of the build ups to filming, we grabbed some wine coolers from friend's house. These were real alcohol and they were tempting. Paul suggested we flip to decide if we should just drink them despite the risks. We flipped about ten times- all but one said we should drink. We did not have the courage to drink on that day but our resolve for sobriety was clearly crumbling.
Even more exciting was our depiction of Paul (the bible character, played by me) praying during his incarceration. My hearfelt prayers with my cellmate dripped with barely concealed contempt for the whole institution. We even raised our hands in that utterely evangelical motion of praise. If our chiding sarcasm was not detected, the viewer could always pause the film to see single frames of us raising our middle fingers to their religion.
In one of the build ups to filming, we grabbed some wine coolers from friend's house. These were real alcohol and they were tempting. Paul suggested we flip to decide if we should just drink them despite the risks. We flipped about ten times- all but one said we should drink. We did not have the courage to drink on that day but our resolve for sobriety was clearly crumbling.
Monday, November 16, 2009
The Party
After a certain amount of time, authorities could not help but forget the pariculars of my crimes. So it was without too much trouble that I gained permission to go to a party at someone's house. This party was different from the others that I had been to. No one drank, everyone was fairly calm, a low-key affair. Several others from the dorm were there too, so the dorm parents figured I could not get myself into too much trouble.
I spent a great deal of my time outside with Paul, Steve, and Jeff. Jeff had never been a big member of our group but we had began to hang out a little bit after he was suspended from the school. As my dad was on the school board, and Jeff's ex had been in my dorm I had a handle on what he had done. After his girlfriend dumped him, Jeff called her and threatened to kill himself. I had been in the kitchen at the time and I remember her running around trying to get a hold of some authority to prevent him from following through. My dad claimed that the board had no choice but to suspend him for the rest of the school year and he added that they had considered suspending the girl too because of the suggestions that the two were physically intimate. Jeff considered the punishment a terrible overreaction to simple miscommunication.
Oh well.
After a while, a girl named Ashley came out and began talking to us, the self-styled outcasts of the gathering. We stepped outside the property walls to smoke a couple cigarettes (which I had begun abusing on the roof of Steve's house a few weeks earlier). Ashley asked turned down the cigarrettes but seemed to revel in being around people who so clearly cared so little for the strict limits of school policy. She asked us what we believed in.
-Not Christianity. Someone intoned.
-Probably something like deism. Someone else helpfully added.
Ashley bathed in the novelty of vicarious unbelief.
I felt a strange sense of belonging.
I spent a great deal of my time outside with Paul, Steve, and Jeff. Jeff had never been a big member of our group but we had began to hang out a little bit after he was suspended from the school. As my dad was on the school board, and Jeff's ex had been in my dorm I had a handle on what he had done. After his girlfriend dumped him, Jeff called her and threatened to kill himself. I had been in the kitchen at the time and I remember her running around trying to get a hold of some authority to prevent him from following through. My dad claimed that the board had no choice but to suspend him for the rest of the school year and he added that they had considered suspending the girl too because of the suggestions that the two were physically intimate. Jeff considered the punishment a terrible overreaction to simple miscommunication.
Oh well.
After a while, a girl named Ashley came out and began talking to us, the self-styled outcasts of the gathering. We stepped outside the property walls to smoke a couple cigarettes (which I had begun abusing on the roof of Steve's house a few weeks earlier). Ashley asked turned down the cigarrettes but seemed to revel in being around people who so clearly cared so little for the strict limits of school policy. She asked us what we believed in.
-Not Christianity. Someone intoned.
-Probably something like deism. Someone else helpfully added.
Ashley bathed in the novelty of vicarious unbelief.
I felt a strange sense of belonging.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
The Alcohol Exile
And so, I entered the tenth grade. On my first day back from summer vacation, I approached Paul.
-I think you were right, I uttered.
Paul knew what I meant.
So here we were. The alcohol ban still in force for me and Paul. The stricter regulations had now been lifted but there was always the specter of suspicion, especially from the dorm parents on the floor below mine. As they were not my dorm parents, they very rarely had any real power over me, but they still gave me dirty looks (or so I interpreted them).
We could not drink, so Paul and I devoted our time to making movies. We had invested much of our time over the years to making short films based on biblical passages for our respective Bible courses. While other groups slapped together tiny passion plays, our group staged larger, more complex productions requiring more effort each semester. At the beginning of this semester, it was my turn to film an issue relating to the Protestant reformation. Paul planned to make my bible project his project for video productions. The subject matter was fairly violent and fairly sectarian. Basically we distilled the Protestant reformation in to a large gang-war.
As our films became more stridently Christian fundamentalist, our religion became more obviously atheistic. Deprived of our substances, we found less benign ways to rebel. It was in these days that I began openly challenging the outliers of religious belief which I found most obviously erroneous. I argued with dorm mates that swearing was much less egregious than other words spoken in malice, I said that masturbation harmed no one (especially if no lust came into it), and (after a quick foray into Marx's Communist Manifesto) I suggested that capitalism might not be the most moral system of governance. All these arguments were made with a veneer of Christian pragmatism; I was merely testing the limits of my own faith, I intoned. I gained a reputation as the Devil's advocate, but no worse (certainly not an unbeliever).
The tensions were certainly rising between me and the authorities by the day. I no longer stood or sang in chapel or church. I had also found worship songs banal, but I now found them downright loathsome. One day, a chaplain approached us as we sat and ordered us to stand for the song. We stood. A few days later, my dorm-parent lectured me on the need to be more engaged in the chapel experience. It became clear that even when I was sober there remained a great deal of tension between the authorities and myself. And I certainly was not going to stay sober forever.
-I think you were right, I uttered.
Paul knew what I meant.
So here we were. The alcohol ban still in force for me and Paul. The stricter regulations had now been lifted but there was always the specter of suspicion, especially from the dorm parents on the floor below mine. As they were not my dorm parents, they very rarely had any real power over me, but they still gave me dirty looks (or so I interpreted them).
We could not drink, so Paul and I devoted our time to making movies. We had invested much of our time over the years to making short films based on biblical passages for our respective Bible courses. While other groups slapped together tiny passion plays, our group staged larger, more complex productions requiring more effort each semester. At the beginning of this semester, it was my turn to film an issue relating to the Protestant reformation. Paul planned to make my bible project his project for video productions. The subject matter was fairly violent and fairly sectarian. Basically we distilled the Protestant reformation in to a large gang-war.
As our films became more stridently Christian fundamentalist, our religion became more obviously atheistic. Deprived of our substances, we found less benign ways to rebel. It was in these days that I began openly challenging the outliers of religious belief which I found most obviously erroneous. I argued with dorm mates that swearing was much less egregious than other words spoken in malice, I said that masturbation harmed no one (especially if no lust came into it), and (after a quick foray into Marx's Communist Manifesto) I suggested that capitalism might not be the most moral system of governance. All these arguments were made with a veneer of Christian pragmatism; I was merely testing the limits of my own faith, I intoned. I gained a reputation as the Devil's advocate, but no worse (certainly not an unbeliever).
The tensions were certainly rising between me and the authorities by the day. I no longer stood or sang in chapel or church. I had also found worship songs banal, but I now found them downright loathsome. One day, a chaplain approached us as we sat and ordered us to stand for the song. We stood. A few days later, my dorm-parent lectured me on the need to be more engaged in the chapel experience. It became clear that even when I was sober there remained a great deal of tension between the authorities and myself. And I certainly was not going to stay sober forever.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
The Day After
I felt fine in the morning actually. No ill effects as far as I could tell. Paul wasn't at school- I guess he wanted to do his chemistry test with his full mental capabilities about him. That evening there was a basketball game, I had little love for watching high school sports teams but there were people there at least. At half-time I wandered outside the gym to the concession stand, there stood Steve. He motioned me over excitedly.
-We're done man. Steve said. -Paul's parents found the bottles under the bathroom sink. They are coming down hard on him
Evidently, Paul's parents were suspisious of our little study session. When Derek came back they listened at the door and heard the tell-tale clink of bottles. From that point it was not hard to find the evidence. Paul may have been able to finagle his way into lesser charges but he was in no state to do that once he got home.
Very soon after that horrendous news, my mother flew in to visit me at the boarding school. the trip had not been planned. Very soon it became clear that my mother's arrival represented a kind of intervention for my soul. In a handful of long sessions my mother interviewed me on my current lifestyle. She claimed that she had not been informed of any antisocial behaviour by the dorm parents. Or by Paul's parents. No, she claimed, the Holy Ghost had let her know in that 'still small voice' that all was not well with her youngest child. So here we were. I copped to swearing ("they're just words", I argued), to not being cooperative with the school authorities, and finally to drinking.
The dorm parents were brought into the loop. Soon a partial solution was found with Paul's mom; Paul and I were not allowed to spend evenings out with Daniel, who it had been decided was a bad influence on the two of us. The terms of my parole were set in place, I could only ever spend nights over at Paul's house. I never understood that decision as I had consumed more alcohol with Paul than with any other member of our small gang.
So now Paul and I embarked on a long period of sobriety. My parents and dormparents worked hard to help us see the weight of our sins. I already knew that Paul and Steve cared little for those invocations and they were beginning to lose their resonance with me as well.
-We're done man. Steve said. -Paul's parents found the bottles under the bathroom sink. They are coming down hard on him
Evidently, Paul's parents were suspisious of our little study session. When Derek came back they listened at the door and heard the tell-tale clink of bottles. From that point it was not hard to find the evidence. Paul may have been able to finagle his way into lesser charges but he was in no state to do that once he got home.
Very soon after that horrendous news, my mother flew in to visit me at the boarding school. the trip had not been planned. Very soon it became clear that my mother's arrival represented a kind of intervention for my soul. In a handful of long sessions my mother interviewed me on my current lifestyle. She claimed that she had not been informed of any antisocial behaviour by the dorm parents. Or by Paul's parents. No, she claimed, the Holy Ghost had let her know in that 'still small voice' that all was not well with her youngest child. So here we were. I copped to swearing ("they're just words", I argued), to not being cooperative with the school authorities, and finally to drinking.
The dorm parents were brought into the loop. Soon a partial solution was found with Paul's mom; Paul and I were not allowed to spend evenings out with Daniel, who it had been decided was a bad influence on the two of us. The terms of my parole were set in place, I could only ever spend nights over at Paul's house. I never understood that decision as I had consumed more alcohol with Paul than with any other member of our small gang.
So now Paul and I embarked on a long period of sobriety. My parents and dormparents worked hard to help us see the weight of our sins. I already knew that Paul and Steve cared little for those invocations and they were beginning to lose their resonance with me as well.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Chemistry Night: Part Three
My brother and Daniel had come out of Paul's house down the block and joined us in the park. I stood up and in some fit of sober sadism my brother pushed me and I fell and scraped by forearm on the steps. It hurt- why would you push your obviously drunk and distraught brother?
My head was whirling now. I had a headache from my tears (and I suppose from the hard liquor). Derek Anderson had finished his dinner and had joined us. Most of the people around me were still on the way up. I could not comprehend their happiness. The group filed back into Paul's house. A few more drinks. Did I have any more?
And we were off again, on one of our walks to the school. To my dorm. I was slipping in and out of incoherence. A few blocks down and someone realized that we had left the bottles out in Paul's bathroom. Derek was sent back under the pretense of using the washroom. He put the bottles in our rather obvious hiding spot and dashed back out- nothing discovered, we were cool. We made it to the dorm and out onto the roof. Some overeager fellow students had set up a small barn that supplied the dorm with some fresh eggs. I hated overeagerness. We sat beside the barn and talked for a while. Then Paul vomited.
For us vomiting had been the undeniable marker of drunkenness. A crew member had gotten drunk-drunk, no more loopholes. We did our best to cover our tracks there as well. The gang left, and I went to bed. I wandered into the room of a fellow student. He was already asleep but I woke him:
-Never drink man.
My head was whirling now. I had a headache from my tears (and I suppose from the hard liquor). Derek Anderson had finished his dinner and had joined us. Most of the people around me were still on the way up. I could not comprehend their happiness. The group filed back into Paul's house. A few more drinks. Did I have any more?
And we were off again, on one of our walks to the school. To my dorm. I was slipping in and out of incoherence. A few blocks down and someone realized that we had left the bottles out in Paul's bathroom. Derek was sent back under the pretense of using the washroom. He put the bottles in our rather obvious hiding spot and dashed back out- nothing discovered, we were cool. We made it to the dorm and out onto the roof. Some overeager fellow students had set up a small barn that supplied the dorm with some fresh eggs. I hated overeagerness. We sat beside the barn and talked for a while. Then Paul vomited.
For us vomiting had been the undeniable marker of drunkenness. A crew member had gotten drunk-drunk, no more loopholes. We did our best to cover our tracks there as well. The gang left, and I went to bed. I wandered into the room of a fellow student. He was already asleep but I woke him:
-Never drink man.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Chemistry Night: Part Two
-I feel like I never actually believed in Jesus, or in Christianity, Steve intoned.
Shock, disbelief -What?
-I have actually felt the same way for quite a while, Paul added.
What the Fuck?-What do you mean?
-I lack any sort of strong belief in any of the major tenets of Christianity, I feel no affinity for Jesus at all.
My alcohol addled mind reeled, I stumbled. By this point we had come to the stone steps of the park near Paul's house. We stood and sat in fits and starts as the discussion unfolded.
-I know that these Christians who surround us are bastards, but that does not mean that Christianity is flawed or anything. I mean, damn it guys. Look, what do we do that makes us such sinners in the eyes of this school? We drink, but fuck it Christ had wine... we have not even gotten drunk. We don't have to destroy our religion just because some pricks have a problem with the image of the bottle.
-I don't think that's it... have you ever thought about Christ? I am not convinced.
Paul had taken the lead on trying to show me the wisdom of their new proposition. I started to cry. These guys must know what hell meant. Hell. I knew what they meant, or thought I did, but just because some assholes judged us did not mean shit. I reiterated this as many times and ways as I knew how. Why abandon religion?
-I honestly worry for your souls. I said doing an awful job hiding the tears that were streaming down my face. -Jesus still saves, we are still on the right side of the righteous divide.
The whole thing just came as a shock to me, I had known non-Christians before but they had just not been adequately introduced to the beauty of grace and the peace of salvation. No one who had seen the light of God could ever turn away, not without being illogical fucks. How then could my perfectly reasonable friends... I don't understand, I must be missing something.
Shock, disbelief -What?
-I have actually felt the same way for quite a while, Paul added.
What the Fuck?-What do you mean?
-I lack any sort of strong belief in any of the major tenets of Christianity, I feel no affinity for Jesus at all.
My alcohol addled mind reeled, I stumbled. By this point we had come to the stone steps of the park near Paul's house. We stood and sat in fits and starts as the discussion unfolded.
-I know that these Christians who surround us are bastards, but that does not mean that Christianity is flawed or anything. I mean, damn it guys. Look, what do we do that makes us such sinners in the eyes of this school? We drink, but fuck it Christ had wine... we have not even gotten drunk. We don't have to destroy our religion just because some pricks have a problem with the image of the bottle.
-I don't think that's it... have you ever thought about Christ? I am not convinced.
Paul had taken the lead on trying to show me the wisdom of their new proposition. I started to cry. These guys must know what hell meant. Hell. I knew what they meant, or thought I did, but just because some assholes judged us did not mean shit. I reiterated this as many times and ways as I knew how. Why abandon religion?
-I honestly worry for your souls. I said doing an awful job hiding the tears that were streaming down my face. -Jesus still saves, we are still on the right side of the righteous divide.
The whole thing just came as a shock to me, I had known non-Christians before but they had just not been adequately introduced to the beauty of grace and the peace of salvation. No one who had seen the light of God could ever turn away, not without being illogical fucks. How then could my perfectly reasonable friends... I don't understand, I must be missing something.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Chemistry Night: Part 1
As my ninth grade dragged on, I began to convort more often with those people who were a grade ahead: namely, Paul, Daniel, Steve, and sometimes Derek Anderson, rather than Marc, James, and Derek Brown with whom I shared a good rapport but who were drifting into flirtation with narcotics and obsession with pornography (neither of which I found to be socially stimulating). Late that year, the grade ahead found themselves on the eve an important Chemistry test from a notoriously difficult teacher (whose name I forget [Kryslo, Kristoff, Krysl]). A group of peers gathered on that Thursday night in what was intended to be a night of heavy studying and I came along because I knew that bottles were also making their ways there. Paul, Daniel, my brother (still not drinking), and I were the first to gather. They began discussing covalent bonds and I sat silently. We had decided to hold off on the brandy until Steve arrived from his house. At some moment, someone entered and said that Steve might not be coming after all.
So we opened the Brandy and had a round. And then another. And then quickly a third.
Steve arrived five minutes later.
-Assholes started without me?
-We thought you were not coming. We couldn't wait all night.
-I was only fifteen minutes late.
-Shut the fuck up. Just catch up.
So Steve had his drinks in succession. We all stood equal now.
-We should go to Derek's house.
Walking into hostile terrain was one of our forte's (especially mine and Paul's. We had re-entered the campus under the influence several times and talked cheerfully to many of my dormmates, we even played baskteball against some of the team [and held our own]. Nobody ever saw our stumbles and slurred speech; sometimes people just don't want to know. [Like in health class when Ashley posited that no-one at the school did any of that bad stuff to audible laughs from our little corner].
So Paul, Steve, and I went to Derek's house. His sister answered the door. The family was having spaggetti for dinner and Derek could not go to 'study chemistry' for at least another hour. We wandered listlessly until we decided to go to the park at the top of his street. We pissed on the trees of that park, surrounded though it was by all those members of the school's establishment. We wandered listlessly. We began to head back to Paul's house.
Then Steve renounced Christ.
So we opened the Brandy and had a round. And then another. And then quickly a third.
Steve arrived five minutes later.
-Assholes started without me?
-We thought you were not coming. We couldn't wait all night.
-I was only fifteen minutes late.
-Shut the fuck up. Just catch up.
So Steve had his drinks in succession. We all stood equal now.
-We should go to Derek's house.
Walking into hostile terrain was one of our forte's (especially mine and Paul's. We had re-entered the campus under the influence several times and talked cheerfully to many of my dormmates, we even played baskteball against some of the team [and held our own]. Nobody ever saw our stumbles and slurred speech; sometimes people just don't want to know. [Like in health class when Ashley posited that no-one at the school did any of that bad stuff to audible laughs from our little corner].
So Paul, Steve, and I went to Derek's house. His sister answered the door. The family was having spaggetti for dinner and Derek could not go to 'study chemistry' for at least another hour. We wandered listlessly until we decided to go to the park at the top of his street. We pissed on the trees of that park, surrounded though it was by all those members of the school's establishment. We wandered listlessly. We began to head back to Paul's house.
Then Steve renounced Christ.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
For much of the rest of that year, I drank.
On a bright weekday afternoon, Paul and I gathered together a few dollars and headed to the Santa Maria Market. We bought two shot glasses and a $6 bottle of Appleton's Rum. Over about an hour, we had six shots in my brother's dorm room before stowing the bottle under a desk, wandering to my dorm room, reading Calvin and Hobbes, laughing, and slowly repeating "Holy Shit" at the magnitude of what was happening to our bodies.
Or.
I spent the night at Paul's house to avoid the stringent curfew of the dorm.We drank vodka from black film canisters. I laid down in the remarkably cool bathtub and Paul sat on the toilet and we talked about fuck knows what.
Or.
I spent the night at Daniel's house and we headed out to the night club Arribar, where I did not dance or talk to anyone but just downed the dollar shots that came with cover and played pool on the warped table in the far back corner.
Or.
The whole of us would grabbed taxis down on a friday afternoon to the Arabian shisha restraunt where we had shawarmas and pipas and tried not to be spotted by Chaplain's assistants who were said to sometimes drive the area and report those students who were in violation of the school's contract.
I held onto the vestiges of my moral purity by claiming that the bible made no invocations against drink but merely against drunkness, which I defined as damn near alcohol poisoning.
On a bright weekday afternoon, Paul and I gathered together a few dollars and headed to the Santa Maria Market. We bought two shot glasses and a $6 bottle of Appleton's Rum. Over about an hour, we had six shots in my brother's dorm room before stowing the bottle under a desk, wandering to my dorm room, reading Calvin and Hobbes, laughing, and slowly repeating "Holy Shit" at the magnitude of what was happening to our bodies.
Or.
I spent the night at Paul's house to avoid the stringent curfew of the dorm.We drank vodka from black film canisters. I laid down in the remarkably cool bathtub and Paul sat on the toilet and we talked about fuck knows what.
Or.
I spent the night at Daniel's house and we headed out to the night club Arribar, where I did not dance or talk to anyone but just downed the dollar shots that came with cover and played pool on the warped table in the far back corner.
Or.
The whole of us would grabbed taxis down on a friday afternoon to the Arabian shisha restraunt where we had shawarmas and pipas and tried not to be spotted by Chaplain's assistants who were said to sometimes drive the area and report those students who were in violation of the school's contract.
I held onto the vestiges of my moral purity by claiming that the bible made no invocations against drink but merely against drunkness, which I defined as damn near alcohol poisoning.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Weeks after my night of entrenched sobriety the whole crew returned to Steve's house for the another night of unsupervised fraternalizing. Again my intention was wholly for an evening of vicarious inebriation. So again I sat and watched the action, taking on the role of caretaker (in an apparent bid to avoid the spills and broken vases that marred our previous outing) I settled in for a night few others would have enjoyed. Indeed, the abstainers from the last night out had opted out of this venture (evidently the act of watching someone else's decline into slurred speech and rambunctious singing appealed less to these others [including my brother] or perhaps they knew what a return to another of these parties would inevitably mean). As I watched, I took slight puffs of the heavy cigars being passed around, I promised myself they represented something far more sophisticated and less morally complicated than the cigarettes which were also making the rounds.
At about midnight the heavy drinkers settled into their fitful sleeps on the couches of the downstairs living-room. Only Steve (who had tried to be the voice of reason) and I remained alert. We turned to each other and then to the bottle of Vodka on the balcony table.
-I'll go mix a chaser to smooth the taste, Steve suggested after the requisite fabricated discussion of moral imperatives
-We should play some sort of game to get this stuff down, I recommended, knowing that this particular brand of Vodka had survived until this time in the night because of its extremely harsh afterburn.
We agreed that our game would involve a test of pain: a person would burn a cigar into the right side of his left palm (where it was thought that scars would not remain [and they did not]). If the person could hold the cigar for five seconds, the opposing person would drink twice; if not, the failed burner would drink a single.
We both failed once and succeeded once. Three generous drinks taken from a hard plastic cup and chased down by Tang with a generous amount of powder. I felt the burn and then the warmth. I settled into a living room couch and feel asleep to the strains of one of the lesser Pink Panthers.
At about midnight the heavy drinkers settled into their fitful sleeps on the couches of the downstairs living-room. Only Steve (who had tried to be the voice of reason) and I remained alert. We turned to each other and then to the bottle of Vodka on the balcony table.
-I'll go mix a chaser to smooth the taste, Steve suggested after the requisite fabricated discussion of moral imperatives
-We should play some sort of game to get this stuff down, I recommended, knowing that this particular brand of Vodka had survived until this time in the night because of its extremely harsh afterburn.
We agreed that our game would involve a test of pain: a person would burn a cigar into the right side of his left palm (where it was thought that scars would not remain [and they did not]). If the person could hold the cigar for five seconds, the opposing person would drink twice; if not, the failed burner would drink a single.
We both failed once and succeeded once. Three generous drinks taken from a hard plastic cup and chased down by Tang with a generous amount of powder. I felt the burn and then the warmth. I settled into a living room couch and feel asleep to the strains of one of the lesser Pink Panthers.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
In ninth grade, I went to a get-together with some of my friends at Steve's apartment. Not quite like the house parties of the popular imagination (no girls for one thing). Steve had an amazing apartment on the top of his building (itself on the top of a large hill), which afforded a glorious view of the city. The boys sat on his balcony, and then on the roof above it, passing around ciggarettes, cigars, and cheap hard liqour mixed with some unidentifiable juice. I abstained from all of this; there was no room for substance abuse in the religion of my forefathers. Still I enjoyed the drunkness of others, I enjoyed the fact that this group had trusted me enough to invite me to the gathering, I even enjoyed the heavy smell of tobacco as it tapered upwards.
That evening, Marc (drunk beyond measure) thought that Derek (who had misteriously disappeared) must be dead. The fright brought Marc to the verge of religious hysteria (which continued even after Derek emerged from his mysterious disappearance [a/k/a the washroom]). Marc asked someone to explain the gospel to him (a superfluous act for any of us members of a Christian school, including Marc). I read to him from the bible, he accepted Christ. It was the last conversion I can take credit for (and itself a total sham.)
In the morning, Steve noticed that nearly all of the family fish had died.
That evening, Marc (drunk beyond measure) thought that Derek (who had misteriously disappeared) must be dead. The fright brought Marc to the verge of religious hysteria (which continued even after Derek emerged from his mysterious disappearance [a/k/a the washroom]). Marc asked someone to explain the gospel to him (a superfluous act for any of us members of a Christian school, including Marc). I read to him from the bible, he accepted Christ. It was the last conversion I can take credit for (and itself a total sham.)
In the morning, Steve noticed that nearly all of the family fish had died.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
-The theme of my message here tonight is redemption. The grace of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ is still relevant to those of you that have been Christians since the age of four, a wondrous message that needs to be shared (etc.)(or some such other similar message).
-Worship God, be the salt of the earth, and remember to come back to the Lord to confess your many sins. (oh how many they are, were; who can really tell [other than the all important God (who sees all)])
-Walk the countryside saying 'Jesus have mercy on me, a sinner'
Eight grade this was it for me: penitence and evangelism.
Ninth Grade I began to drink.
-Worship God, be the salt of the earth, and remember to come back to the Lord to confess your many sins. (oh how many they are, were; who can really tell [other than the all important God (who sees all)])
-Walk the countryside saying 'Jesus have mercy on me, a sinner'
Eight grade this was it for me: penitence and evangelism.
Ninth Grade I began to drink.
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