Boozy Rant 16: A Stilled Heart's Declaration, Whiskey and Lamb Chops

"It's a curious thing to have your senses and person electrified by a anonymous paramour. To be in a state that is like a beautiful apprehension about the other, a delicious annihilation of reason and momentum, the threat of the fiery flames of passion. They are become destroyer and maker of your world... maybe. Where you moved once without a care, with the assurance of your solitude and the guarantees of the night time of the soul; now days seem suspiciously too bright and somehow a print of their face is present, intruding; a wide eyed film that filters you world."

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That is what I wrote as I spoke to her. It's not the whole thing. The greater part of this embarrassing observance was transmutated into drunken declaration of affections as one wont after a fair amount of booze. A piece of bash-some writing that would have ended in a sured doom of one sort or other. It is not a overstatement to say that my love life has been garbage for the last three years and seemingly in a state of accelerated decay. Things have increasingly tended to shape up awfully.

I think I stopped three thirds of the way of finishing (get your filth head out of the gutter) when I recoiled back. First asking myself if I was really writing this and then, secondly, to question my bravery. It must have been when I sank my teeth in those leftover lamb chops, the better to duck nasty hangovers but buggers with your buzz. So I have here a piece of revelatory introduction. The head of what remains of the whims of a inflamed heart.

The heart might want what it wants but I would very much like not to be embarrassed. Declaration never turn out fine, under the pen or the shining sun. And they can ruin what good relations there are, beside turning things awkward, unpleasant and tense.

Be still you nuisance of a heart, we have the whiskey. Even though that nearly betrayed us. But let us be content with the liquid of life and the cheer of what friends a drunk might keep.

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