I heal myself well on solitude and alcohol

Today has been one of those days that I have spent the bulk of alone. The only social interaction that I have had all day was the three hours that I was at work and the two hours that I spent drinking. The rest was spent sitting on this bed with the computer in my lap or on my newly arrived couch watching Squidbillies. The couch isn't mine. I just have temporary custody until the actual owner gets out of the dorm for good and finds a place of his own.

I spent the bulk of today being a lazy dildo. I got off work somewhere around five and spent the next seven hours doing nothing but sitting on my bed and watching videos online. I felt like trying to prevent muscle atrophy at some point and decided to get out. After washing my face and ass and trying to get all of the hair that makes up my beard to go in one direction (unsuccessfully), I went to Egan's. If you didn't see that one coming from the International Space Station, you're an idiot. I sat there for a while and just kinda looked around. I saw all of these people that I am familiar with, but I don't know any of them. The most interaction that I've had with most of them is just eye contact across the bar. I saw a couple of friends there and we talked for a few but I spent the bulk of the evening alone, drinking beer, whiskey, and more beer and eating peanuts. I saw a couple of dudes wearing eyeliner and it made me want to slam their heads into the pool table and there was some fat guy in a fur coat and bikini (seriously) and I wanted to vomit, then I realized that he was in one of the bands that played. I still wanted to puke. I think that I'm the most comfortable there when it isn't crowded. That's when I feel less pathetic for sitting at the bar by myself and drinking. When it's crowded and I walk in alone, I feel like people are giving me dirty looks. I'm probably just being neurotic, but the thought is always there.

Back from hiatus. Sorry, I started typing this drunk about ten hours ago. I just woke up. Where were we? Oh yeah.

I need to go to Target. I left Tuscaloosa three weeks ago with about seven pairs of socks. I somehow ended up back down here with only three. I'm really weird about my feet being covered at all times. Maybe that explains why my feet are so gross, hence my constant refusal to let anyone that isn't immediate family see me barefoot. Hell, I'm typing this naked (THERE'S a mental image for you!) right now, but I have on socks. While I'm at it, I should probably buy some more underwear. All of my important undergarments keep disappearing. And long johns. Definitely some long johns. If my precious parts are only shielded from the elements of Old Man Winter by boxer shorts and britches, then it may very well run back inside for good.

I'm dreading Monday. Five classes, nineteen books. Nineteen. According to the book store's website, it's going to cost be about $700. On top of that, I'm working five days a week, six shifts in all. From Monday until May, it's goodbye free time and any attempt at enjoying myself. I'm not going to sit here and say that I'm going to spend all of my time keeping up on the reading that I have to do and blah blah blah, because I know that I won't do it if I say that I'm going to do it. If nothing, I'm just going to keep a promise that I made to my mother to stop fucking around so goddamn much.

If I take summer classes, I'll graduate next spring. After that, I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do. I'm going to apply for a couple of graduate schools. I know that much. Also, I'm going to apply for Teach for America. Who knows?

I want warm weather, food cooked on a grill, and baseball. Quick. 40 days until pitchers and catchers report.

Oh yeah, before I go, Roll Tide!!! Number 13 (and if you say otherwise, you can go to hell.)

If you haven't listened to NOFX's latest album, Coaster, or the more recent EP, Cokie the Clown, you should. It's hard to take them seriously, but they're less comical now and more serious. I like it.