Here comes the cavalry. For this blog I will be discussing everything about getting drunk and exploring that unseen future that will more than likely never happen, but shit, I can dream can't I? Liver failure will probably become a frequent visitor, as will hopeless hangovers the morning after the unrealities that I wish to explore. Hell, you know what? Just for the literal audience, I'll toss in my fucked up dreams that I have the night after heavy drinking. The brain needs to unwind for all the crap I've funneled into it.
To begin: A shot of Sailor Jerry's.
Where to?: Anywhere.
I was riding the Greyhound the other day, working my way back home on a slow trip heading due south. Something about staring out the window is very conducive to putting someone into a dream-like state. The simplest explanation to my dream-revelation is this - Staring sober up at the clouds, you can almost see their cotton candy shapes and texture. Each piece pulls from another and the sky is filled with vanilla flavored sugar air. It's wonderful to think of how fucked up the sky would actually be if every diabetic had to run for cover the moment a cloud began to form.
Avoid sugar, kids.
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