|The sign above one of the theaters near my apartment.|
A late summer night in Los Angeles, California. Specifically, the middle of Hollywood. A hot night, music in the air, kids across the street milling about, cars occasionally speeding down the street on the way to god knows where on a Friday night. Everything that I see from my patio, everything that I hear from my patio, has a precedent. This scene could have happened in the 70’s, in fact, it probably did. But most of the people I see from my patio were not even born until after the 80’s, so they mistakenly think that they are being original. I think, as I sit on my patio, that I am being original. What a laugh.
It all goes down easier with liquor. the drinking does not control me. Youth is a shitty guardian, and quite devoid of control. At my age, I am in charge of the liquor, even in the letting go of some control. I am in charge.
|The corner liquor store|
My father did not drink like I do, completely. He drank to contract, whereas I drink to expand. At times, I could see my father expanding when he was drunk, but it was a sad visage nonetheless—like a bird trying to fly in a cage. Here in Hollywood, on my patio, on a summer night with music in the air and kids milling about and cars speeding along, I have no cage. I am expanded.
My brother drank when he was young, and it controlled him (among other things). Big mistake, big brother! Now, he does not drink, and the only expansion he indulges in is the one that threatens to put pressure on his belts. The thing with control is that it too, too, often goes against the physics of the world. The physics of the world are the furthest thing from control; rather, the physics of the world are all about change.
My reticence to drinking early in my life was an attempt at control that worked until it no longer worked. In order to enter the pool, it is advisable to wear a swimsuit, so to speak. The funny thing is that by the time I put on a swimsuit I preferred to enter the pool naked. Naked, when older, is a glorious thing.
On a late summer night in Los Angeles, California, I am naked to the world. Many, perhaps my brother, would think that I was needlessly exposed. He would be wrong. The correct assumption would be that I am exposed to my nature. The poisons that run through my veins are the poisons that kill the toxins of control. Control is much, much more fatal than chaos. I suspect that my father knew this. His flaw, the flaw that killed him, is that he feared this.
Dad, you don’t need to worry about me. I got this.