Days like this are the reason I decided to leave San
Francisco in the first place. It’s not just a hangover. Those are funny. Those
mean one good night with way too much wine. This is different. Last night, I
had three celebratory shots with a roommate who just started drinking again.
Stupid thing to celebrate, yeah, but hey that’s what he wanted. He was headed
out as it was Friday night, and I was staying in as I had to be at work at 9AM.
Once he left though, I thought “why not go have a drink?” So I went out to our
neighborhood bar for a single beer. I had two, I think, before people started
to show up. I put a ton of cash in the juke. I lingered on those two drinks
though, for a while because I was keeping my head on. Then I smoked with the
barkeep and decided to have a shot like he used to do. He poured them for me
and my friend, and then “one for the road.” I was supposed to be going home. But
then bam. People showed up. These
black cats came out of nowhere and I went all New Orleans on them and they
loved it. I know they bought me a drink. But after that? Nothing. I don’t even
know if I settled up with Francisco (the bartender) before leaving. I’m sure I
did. I can’t imagine he would have let me walk out that door without doing so.
But then this is where it gets weird. Because honestly, all the sudden, whammo – it’s 6AM, I’m hanging out with
a bunch of coked out hipsters in my living room, I’m coked out, too, and I’m
trying to play some song for my roommate’s girlfriend. I cannot remember doing
a single line of cocaine. I cannot remember coming home. I cannot remember
making the decision to even hang out with them. It’s not a blur, it’s not “hazy.”
I truly have no memory of what happened last night. Thank Christ I wasn’t in
North Beach, because I would have spent a fortune. But the point is that this
is not cool. This does not make me cool. Because I just woke up at 3PM, I do remember that I called in to work at
7AM (god-fucking-damn it), my sinuses are all fucked up, and I know that I’m in for one mean
metaphysical hangover. What a waste of a day, a day that I was supposed to be
at work, functioning, making money, saving for my massive future trip. I can
happily say though, that it is not a waste of a life, like it used to be. But
damn, I sure wish I had made some other decisions last night. I was supposed to
go to Arabella’s coffee shop this morning and surprise her, and have a latte,
and maybe have a nice conversation. Instead, I’ve done exactly the thing that
our meeting was so happy to discover two good-looking people didn’t want to do
anymore, or ever! Goddamn, Arabella, there is no doubt that you would hate me
now. Hell, maybe you do. But days like these are why I left this place. I was
out of control, I could not help a night like this, and I could not say no to
cocaine. I’ve been great about saying no to cocaine for over a year now
(excepting one moment in which I really think I’m happy I did it, even just to
discover that I truly didn’t need it anymore). I wish I could even remember the
moment I did that cocaine last night. It is just completely gone. And now I
sigh, knowing that I’ve got a whole long day of self-doubt and self-anger ahead
of me. Tomorrow I have to go to work. I should have been off two hours from
now. I would love to shout, “Why am I acting this way?” But I know why. I’m sad
and I’m angry and I don’t even want to live in this city. I achieved everything
I wanted, but I had fallen in love, and I let that become my focus. Why shouldn’t
I have?! What better focus could there ever be? She was wonderful, and maybe I’m
just a convincing enough liar that I had fooled even myself into thinking that
I was a better person. She made me better. She made me feel like it was not
just okay to separate myself from the party, but that it was more attractive
and that it made life more beautiful. She was my favorite. And goddamn, do I
miss her. These are all the reasons I left this city, but now I’m back, and
honestly, not much has changed.
