You’re in bed. You’re sniffling. You have allergies. You have a cat. You’re allergic to the cat and everything else in your apartment. But you stay here because there’s nowhere else to go. You could go out. But why? There’s nowhere else to go. You just told yourself that. Don’t you listen? It’s very quiet. You’re surprised because just recently you could hear fireworks out in the distance. Perhaps someone’s had got blown off, you wonder. What a horrible thought. Why do you think about such things? Why don’t you think happy thoughts? Think about puppies. You don’t like puppies?

Everyone likes puppies. Puppies and fudge. Mmm . . . fudge. Peanut butter chocolate fudge. Puppies and peanut butter chocolate fudge. But enough about food . . . and puppies. You know why you’re here. Don’t you? Don’t you? Oh crap. First the puppies and now this? How do you live with yourself? You’re trying to use a new template, aren’t you. You’re four weeks out and trying to reinvent the wheel. You need coffee – that’s what you need. If won’t go for puppies and fudge, you might as well engage in substance abuse. Get your fix. Get it now.

You’re such an addict. Though that’s nothing compared to the black box, right? It sucks you in like a cheap whore. Not one of those expensive whores. Really, really cheap. How cheap exactly? Don’t dwell on details. It only distracts you from your real problem. That’s right – you have a problem. That’s the first step, isn’t it? Look at yourself. Look at what you’ve written. Only two entries, and you have errors galore. You probably have errors in this one too. But they’re distractions too. From what? Look at that black box. Do you see what I see? You do.

And man is she hot. Stop it! Stop this crazy thing! What’s the next step? How can you stay on the wagon (off the wagon?) if you don’t know all the steps? You can’t even do the two-step. Better stick to the rumba. Rumba-mumba. Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re totally lost, aren’t you? Well, at least you’re not staring at the black box. How much do you love thee? Count the ways, damn you. Count! You feel better now that you threw up – twice. That’s no fun. You almost done? You’re just getting started. And that’s no joke.

Ha ha! That’s funny. Stop laughing! I said it wasn’t a joke. You never listen. Now stop crying, you big baby. I’m sorry. You’re bored. Let’s call the Lobster Man. Plagiarist! Plagiarist! Is that one of the steps? Plagiarizing? You owe an apology to Sam Shepard. That’s definitely one of the steps. But you’re not that far yet. Calm down! Don’t get ahead of yourself. Begin with the roots, and then move to the branches. Only a sage can do that. Plagiarist! Plagiarist! Won’t you ever learn? Or was that simply an allusion? More like an illusion. You’re so smart.

No you’re not. You’re actually stupid. Really, really stupid. And drunk. And you only had one beer. Well, at least you’re not staring at the black box. One problem at a time! Too many chemicals! Too many dependencies! What’s a boy to do? Or a girl, for that matter? Don’t be sexist! God, what am I going to do with you? And stop taking the Lord’s name in vain! Jesus! Hey! I said stop doing that! Why all the yelling? Can’t we all just get along? Christ, can’t you say anything original? What did I just say?! You’re exhausted. Sleep.

Now wake up! You’re so lazy. Your mind – it plays tricks on you. Bugs. Lots of bugs. And cars. They fill your head. Sit down. Dogs barking. That doesn’t concern you. Things blinking. That’s soothing, isn’t it? What’s the deal with the changing thing? Is somebody there? You went to Colorado. You broke your ankle. That’s ok. One second. How about a cookie? Do you deserve it? It’s not about dessert. Get it? Never mind. Your suffering lacks interest. Suffer in a more interesting way. Consume some DDT like that girl. Her suffering was interesting. For love – that’s the way.

What are you, crazy? That stuff will kill you! And for what? Love? Try some Good & Plenty. Or maybe a Twix bar. They taste better. Have a beer. If the commercials represent real life (and they do), then you’re bound to get a hot chick. But come to think of it, you’re too good looking. Girls don’t go for hot guys in beer commercials. Those guys can’t even comb their hair. And the chicks dig it. Yeah, you know they do. Beer, chicks, and Twix – that’s all you need, my man. But not all at once. That’s too sticky.

And now you’re stuck – in more ways than one. And you’re also drunk – in more ways than one (which means at least two, in case you’re wondering). But it’s better to be drunk than stuck. At least you’re still mobile. I mean, what’s more important? What people think of you? Or how you feel? You feel good, right? Don’t you? Good? Ah, forget it. Is it time for another drink yet? What about girls? Where are the girls? They all look really good right now. (They look good because you’re drunk. I just want you to know that. So there.)

In this state you might not get many subtleties. Are you getting the subtleties? Good. Yoooooooooooooou have become comfortably numb. Comfortably numb. That’s a nice phrase. You should trademark that. Maybe write a song. After another drink. What’s the rush? Creativity will always be there. Alcohol – not so much. It’s reminiscent of death. The finitude of it all. So depressing. Why are you thinking about this stuff. Live in your delusion, man. Drink! Have some hummus. It’s spicy! Oooh, you like it spicy, don’t you? Just like Beckham’s wife. She’s spicy. Or she was. What happened to the Spice Girls?

They’re all dead! But not Beckham’s wife. She’s still alive. And she’s got a show on NBC. Man, you should get paid for all your endorsements. You have no agent, that’s you’re problem. Maybe you could imitate Benjamin Franklin. Yeah, that would be sexy. Chick would dig that. Whoa. You are way off topic. What? Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. The room is spinning. Stop spinning that room. Stop it, damn you! How can you go to a strip club? Forget the strip club. The cat just puked. You’re drunk off your ass, and it’s the cat who’s puking?

What’s wrong with this picture? What’s wrong with this picture?! Now he’s trying to bury the puke in the floor. He can’t do it. Because it’s a floor. He’s a dumb cat. A sick, dumb cat. Oooh, the insanity! Hey, there’s still beer in that glass, man. Drink up. Or as they say in China, “Gan bei!” Or in Japan, “Kan pai!” (I think that’s what they say, anyway.) I don’t know what they say in Korea, but I’m sure it’s cool. Don’t worry you’re pretty little head about it. Yes, you’re pretty. Stop it – you’re not fat. Seriously, man.

A little drunk, but not fat. But oh, how the night drags. All those commercials about sleep drugs? They’re lookin’ mighty fine. But you can’t take them with alcohol. Sucks for you. Ha, ha! Stop crying! Have a drink, while looking at that black box. She is so sexy. Which is sexier – the black box or a beer? Hard to tell, isn’t it? But now the beer is almost empty. And you can’t even say it’s half full. It’s only a fifth full, maybe only a sixth. And after that next sip, maybe a seventh. No thanks – you’re driving, sucker.

Care to go for an eighth? What’s after an eighth? Dude, it’s over. You’re fading. Is this what it’s like to die? Will anyone help you now that you’re beer is almost done? How major is that? You could be a Beckham. Just play soccer, man. Or football, as they say. Oh, is that what they say? You’re such a conformist. Just for that, you should drink another beer. Hey, it’s a new drinking game. Oh, that’s mature. What are you, like eighteen or something? Then you wouldn’t be legal. You’d be illegal. That’s the opposite of legal, you know.

Whatever. Only about a sip and a half left. Oh, is this triggering for you? Are you that weak? Then you deserve to be drunk. You’re such a wino. And you’re not even drinking wine. You’re a beero. That’s a word. Look it up. Hey, put down that dictionary. If you have to look it up, then you’re really stupid. You should be a walking encyclopedia. Americans are so coddled. And drunk, evidently. Good thing you’re not driving. Oh, when will this be over, you ask. Suicidal fantasies? Is that what you’ve succumbed to? Way to go, man. So lame.

This is the part where there’s supposed to be some kind of epiphany of sorts. Not a big one, because that would be the climax. Get your mind out of the gutter! What are you – fourteen? Now you got me all riled up again. Ok, I’m back to normal. Where was I? Oh yeah, what are you, fourteen? No, that’s not far back enough. Have you had your epiphany yet? Can you tell me when you do? What, do you have a date or something? Don’t kid yourself. All those cute girls at the bookstore? They’re there for the books.

That’s your epiphany. Want another one? You’ll have to wait another fifteen days. It’s like a Japanese horror movie, only without the creepy little girl coming out of your television. Or maybe it is. That can be your next epiphany. But don’t have it yet, or you’ll spoil everything. I said don’t have it, damn you! That’s better. So what now? On to another adventure. Of course, it’s hard to have another adventure, now that you’re sober. I’m not one to recommend chemically dependent people go out and find some more chemicals, but hey, I got a mortgage here, buddy.

I’m not really sure what that means, but if it gets you high, then so be it. Will Captain Jack get you high tonight? Or take you to his special island? How about Billy Joel? That’ll drive you to drink! That diet lemon-lime soda ain’t doin’ it, is it? You got beer in the fridge, man. Tell you what – if you really want to be cool, stick a glass in the freezer, so you can drink your beer in a frosted glass. And I dare you to go back to that black box. I dare you! I double-dog dare you!!

Aw, I don’t really care that much. You’ve been reading to many self-help books. You’re too vanilla now, man. You’re dull. You’ve lost all that eccentricity. You’ll be forgotten. Historians won’t even remember you. You’ll just be that guy, who had that job, and then died. People with addictions are interesting. Don’t you know that? Did you ever read a book about a normal person? You know why? Because they’re boring as hell! You want to read books about self-destructive people. They make you feel good. And at the same time, they are immortalized. People look up to junkies, man.

It’s strange and contradictory, but they’re celebrities. You want to be a celebrity, don’t you? You want people to like you, don’t you? You want everybody to know you’re name, right? Kind of like “Cheers.” Actually it’s a lot like “Cheers,” because you need beer anyway. And lots of it. And bars have lots of beer. But that’s not good enough, man. Lots of people drink beer at bars. That’s too conventional. You drink alone – all by yourself. One bourbon, one shot, and one beer. And if all else fails, just take the beer. Bourbon and shots are expensive, man.

Oh, so now you’re a cheap junkie? One vice at a time! Speaking of which, you need a Testarossa. And a white suit. No, scratch that. That’s too 80s. Are you still drinking that soda? How’s that working out for you? Maybe you should watch more “Dr. Phil.” He’ll straighten you out. Of course that’s your problem. Ok, scratch the “Dr. Phil” idea too. Will you just get a beer, for cryin’ out loud! See, now I’m shouting again. You shouldn’t do that to me. Pardon me while I take a dramatic pause. . . . Are you drunk yet?

No. Another lemon-lime soda? And diet, no less? The cat is agitated. You know – the one you’re allergic to? And wouldn’t you be agitated cooped up with a nauseatingly sober freak like you? You’d be crying too. Searching for inspiration? Well, where’s all the suffering. Oh, that’s right – you’re sober! Everything’s rainbows and bunnies. And not even pink bunnies like when you’re stoned. Just regular old happy normal bunnies. And lots of them. They’re not even having sex. Not that you should be turned on by animals having sex. And you shouldn’t. It’s just a bunch of celibate bunnies, man.

Must everything be about sex with you? You’re so pathetic. Sober and pathetic. See, when you’re drunk, you can’t function well enough for sex. Alcohol keeps you in line. People on tv have lots of sex. You can’t keep track of it all. Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex. That’s a lot of sex. Count it. And the commercials are no better. All this stuff about leg shaving and yeast infections. I don’t know how you deal with it all. Yes I do – beer. Lots and lots of beer. But you? Lots and lots of soda. Too much soda.

All that aspartame can’t be good for you. And what’s worse, it doesn’t even alter your consciousness. What good is cancer if you can’t have fun giving it to yourself. And don’t tell me it tastes good, because orange juice tastes good too. Beer tastes really good, and it gets you drunk. And the tv’s on. Beer and television – you can’t beat that with a stick. Or you could, but it would leave you with a mess and a busted tv. And that’s expensive. Do yourself a favor – leave the beer and tv alone. That is, don’t hit them, man.

At least not with a stick. I don’t know what else to hit them with, so maybe you shouldn’t hit them at all. You’ll be much happier drinking and watching. And you know what to do what with what. Understand? Good. Now hop to it. Which brings me back to bunnies. But thank God your laundry’s done. Not that folding laundry is exciting. But folding it drunk might be. Tell you what, go drink that beer real fast and see how cool it is folding laundry. Hell, if you pass out, at least the clothes might break your fall, man.

Got to take safety precautions when you’re drinking. Of course, you’re not even drinking, so why be safe? Safety is for suckers anyway. So is sobriety. Nobody remembers the Sixties. That was half the fun. Or so she says. You don’t even remember the Nineties. But that’s because you’re clueless. Cluelessness is not a virtue, my friend. And evidently it’s not even a word. You can’t even spell. Drunk people have an excuse to spell poorly. You don’t. So do yourself a favor and get an excuse. There’s a really cold excuse in the refrigerator. But it’s not cold enough.

At least not cold enough for you to take it. You know, it’s not like you’d be stealing it. You paid for the damn thing. You deserve it. It’s a sexy, romantic, and humid evening. If that’s not a good enough reason to drink then I don’t know what is. Well, I guess there are plenty of better reasons to drink, but you don’t have any of them right now. Maybe if you drink, you’ll have some of those reasons. They’ll magically appear. You like magic don’t you? Which brings me back to bunnies. They’re everywhere, man! That’s not good.

So what now? Your back’s against the wall. Sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. . . . Hurray!! Beer! Glorious beer! You feel like singing! The hills are alive with the sounds of beer! Beer, beer, beer – beeeeeeeer! You just went to the fridge for a beer! And suddenly that drink won’t end up in the sink for me. Beeeeeeeer! You just went to the fridge for a beer!! And suddenly you’ve found how wonderful a beer can beeeeee! Beer! Drink it fast, and there’s music playing. Drink it slow – and it’s almost like praying. Beer

You’ll never stop drinking … beer! They give you muscles! You can beat anything and anyone. Come on! Beat that man down. Down to the ground! Nobody messes with Beer Man! You’re a superhero. People love you. You save the day, and give people beer. Ain’t no better hero than one who serves alcohol to those he saves. Oh what a happy day! And night. But now it turns. The beer makes you angry, doesn’t it? You want to hurt people now – too much. And the problem (and the solution) is that you don’t have enough beer. Not enough beer.

Isn’t that your worst nightmare? You can’t control everything. You have beer but it might not be cold enough? Dare you go and check? Can you handle the truth? Can you handle the truth?! You’re not Jack Nicholson and you’re no Tom Cruise. All you want is beer – cold beer. The sips are dwindling, my friend. And I know what you’re thinking. You think those pretzels will save you? You want to feed you sickness now? That’s just perfect. Alcohol, the black box, and food. You are such the junkie. Care to take on another addiction? Go to McDonald’s, man.

You’re lovin’ it, aren’t you!! You can taste it. Which brings me back to bunnies. Oh, let’s take this full circle shall we? What are you, French? Rabbit is a delicacy. Got any more fudge? Remember the fudge? It’s all coming back – the fudge, the puppies, the cat, the puke, and the beer. Can’t forget that beer. It’s the circle of life. It’s like what John Lennon said: Imagine all the beer – drinking it today, whoohoo! You may say I’m a drinker, but I’m not the only one. Maybe someday you’ll join us, and the world will drink as one.