Try never get drunk outside yr own house
(Aside to Dani aka Sako Terachi aka Heesica aka my Wingman: Last night. Port. Olives. Cheese. Then chocolate. Snapchat hilarity!) I believe Kerouac has something here. Out-there-drinking demands too much of my responsible side. I am, after all, someone’s mother, daughter, sister, colleague– I belong to as many people as I love– I never really seem to get much out of it because I am always aware of my behaviour–my mind stays fixed in the situation at hand—the environment of what-will-people-say– But home-drinking lets my mind enjoy the free wandering up and around the many levels of my mind. I write from somewhere wild and unrestricted. I go. I feel. I act. I write. I love. I hate. I cry. I laugh. I live. Then I feel sick. I can be weak without anyone looking on. I can embrace the ugly as well as the beautiful.