My name is Jordan Kit and these are my words.

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Drunk Beginnings: an excerpt from “To Live and Die in Cleveland”

          Vision blurred, I stumble over door thresholds and into rooms more offensive to my condition than the last. “Can’t they see?” I ridiculously state aloud. What a grand fucking notion. The idea that all the people of the world will quiet down for some poor drunk who can’t even walk into a room without falling over.
          Someone calls to me from another room and I pretend not to hear them so I can look busy pretending to be all caught up in the mysterious musings of a high hipster trying to unravel mysteries of the universe to me when all I can think of is finding another drink to replace the last.
          The eyes affix, and I see straight ahead but really see in a kaleidoscope of sorts. All efforts to walk a straight line to a better place to lay down and think are wasted as I crash into a table and right myself and discover the situation is dire. I MUST find a spot to land or else this whole vessel is going to be wrecked. I fall into a low chair and watch as the beautiful idiots wander a tiny brick duplex looking for some holy fix or an ugly fuck only to forget the next morning.
         Sick of drink and sick of people and sick of this disgusting race, I close my eyes only to realize the alcohol that has replaced the blood in my veins has been the main reason I’ve had any sleep during the last week. Now cutting myself off wont do a bit of good. I decide the only reasonable way to handle this is to go “pass out or bust” and I strain to pour myself a lonely shot, only for George and Daniel to decide shots with a real live hero of the night sounds like a tremendous idea.
          My shot goodnight turns into three more and I feel that sick you only feel when cheap whiskey rains on an empty stomach already filled with cheap beer. SICK. The deep lower stomach hurt that won’t simply pass over the hours or the next day and the increasing blur that is so disruptive that I’d rather close my eyes than look into the harsh hodgepodge of colors and unholy lines that bend ad infinitum. If I could just fall asleep I would wake up seemingly five minutes later, when really it’s been hours, and I could leave behind the worst part of this process, but God has other plans for me. “Go forth and be a disgraceful display of what it is to oppose me. Fall from heaven and hit rock bottom and crawl and labor every inch of the way back into the reach of my divine light, and fall again because heaven has no place for you.” I lift the bottle and toast to the lowlifes that know this struggle. Black. It all goes black and the nothingness I had thought would be an escape from the people and the noise and the obligation just leads me deeper down the rabbit’s hole.