I am selfish, private and easily bored.

24th October 2011

Post with 3 notes

Sometimes drinking alone isn’t the best of ideas

Why is it that, he thought bitterly to himself, fictional characters get all the luck. Like in that movie, yeah the one with Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet, what was it called again? Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, yes that was it, they had nice things like companies that would erase the memories of your previous relationships that you had bungled and here he was, drinking this half - assed shit hoping that it could pull the exact same job.

Contrary to his denunciation, the armagnac he was nursing in a tulip glass for over half an hour, was most definitely not half - assed at all. A Vieil Armagnac Veuve J. Goudoulin 1922 and supposedly boasted striking notes of honeysuckle and jasmine offset by fragrant notes of ginger and saffron with a wooden scent of soft leather.
What he did know was that it cost five hundred pounds a pop and that was way too expensive to be getting drunk on. He would switch over to that cheap boxed wine that his friend so enjoyed. ” Goes down well with the pills mate. ” He mused as he lit up another joint, letting the intoxicating smoke befuddle his already semi - conscious self.

He dreamt nebulous dreams of ruinous castles constructed upon the terrain of her silk white skin, horses of gnashing teeth and thunderous iron hooves that swam through her fragrant midnight hair and planets made out of the infinite diamonds that slumbered within the depths of her glittering eyes and the intimate storms that tossed him and her about the bed in his loft apartment, the blanket of darkness that enveloped both of them in it’s warm, loving, deathly embrace and the sharp, sharp teeth that pierced his neck, the winged demons that danced around Lovecraftian landscapes, glowing eyes pinpricks of light in the gelatinous dark…

He awoke with a start, fuck me, I’m rambling again he sighed accompanied with a whisper of a chuckle. His feet still propped up on the chair as he gave the vintage liquor another sip and relit his joint, creating large puffs of pungent smoke.

Had forgetting ever been such an insurmountable task? He thought as he struggled to remember his life before now, the irony failing to set in.

All he could bring to his mind’s eye was the way she had laughed and cried and the way her scent captivated him as she buried her head into his shoulder.

Fuckin’ bollocks he managed to exhale, before he collapsed into the sweet neverending embrace of the velvet night.