My Name Is Jimmy and You Better Not Wear It Out

I started drinking.

And when I say that I started drinking, I mean it. It didn't end.

Bourbon.

Vodka.

Gin.

Rum.

Tequila.

Whiskey.

Beer.

Vodka again.

Rum again.

Even more tequila.

Beer.

I didn't let anyone in the apartment--practically had to barricade the door to keep them out until they realized that I was a drunk mess and wasn't speaking to anyone--and only left to scribble illegible IOUs for bottles of liquor that somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that only I could read drunkenly.

I stopped going to work. Reggie knocked on my door, asking me what the hell was wrong and why I wasn't doing my job. I ignored him. Work didn't matter. Money didn't matter. Only the booze mattered.

And the slow demise of one of my livers. Or both. Didn't matter to me. Wasn't like I would really need them in the long run. I had fucked things up.

I had ROYALLY fucked things up.

Gloria was gone. Tunny was gone. I was forever away from home with no car.

I fucked things up with everyone. Even the Saint didn't want anything to do with me.

Only the liquor monsters were my friends.

They were with me day and night, saying soothing things, reminding me that it wasn't my fault, telling me they'd always be there for me, rejecting my ideas of showers to get at least a little clean because if I took a shower I would start getting sober and they would go away.

I didn't want them go to away.

They were the only ones who cared about me.

They cared more than my mom had.

They cared more than Tunny had.

They cared more than the congregation had.

They even cared more than Gloria.

They stuck with me even though I was a fuck up.

Even though I wasn't good at anything.

Even though I dropped out of high school to go on tour with a douche bag who left me with nowhere to go.

So I kept drinking. They stayed fresh and wonderful, my best friends in this time of crisis. I didn't need to take my pills when they were around, they made the Saint go away. He couldn't stand them.

But I liked them. They even gave me advice on how to forget Gloria.

And one day, Ronaldo (the green octopus with the sombrero. He's so awesome) suggested I write in my journal.

When he mentioned this, I turned to stare at it. Dusty and foreboding, it sat in the corner where I had thrown it on the day that Gloria left. I hadn't even thought about it for the longest time. I didn't even want to touch it.

I was afraid I would find the page. I didn't want to look at the page. And I didn't want to find the letterbomb, clumsily taped to one of the pages on my first night of drinking out of fear that it would be the last piece of her that I had and if I lost it it would be like I lost her forever. I was somewhat regretting that choice now, but if I tried to take it out I knew that I would completely break down from just looking at her handwriting.

Looking at how deeply the pen had been pressed to the page.

Being able to hear her screaming and sobbing every word at me as I scanned the memorized page again.

Asking myself the questions she asked without being to answer over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.

Where will all the martyrs go when the virus wires itself? And where will we all go when it's too late?

I didn't know. I just didn't know.

I looked back at Ronaldo, who was wiggling around on the floor like he usually did. "You sure about this?"

"ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY!"

SO I went over and picked up the journal. I mean, how could you not obey an octopus that was so sure of something like this?

I didn't really know what I was writing, but it made sense to the drunk me and I somehow made it legible.

When I was done I threw it down, hands shaking and feeling drained, not even wanting to touch it anymore.

"You finally touched it. Nice job."

My head shot up, recognizing the one voice that I hadn't heard in almost a month.

He looked at me with a deadened stare, as if he didn't want to be there. As if he didn't care about torturing me anymore. As if he was the one in pain, who had been left alone, who had nowhere to go.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Just to see how you're doing. Can't a figment of someone's imagination check up on a guy once in a while?"

"Fuck no. This is-This is all your fault." I pointed an accusing finger at him, slurring my words more than I meant to.

"Hey, not my fault you listened to me." He held up his hands in defeat.

"No, it IS your fault! You suggested the whole thing! If it wasn't for you-If it wasn't for you, Gloria wouldn't be gone!"

"DON'T YOU BLAME ME FOR THINGS THAT ARE YOUR OWN FAULT! YOU CHOSE TO LISTEN TO ME, YOU CHOSE TO FUCK THAT GIRL, YOU CHOSE NOT TO TELL GLORIA UNTIL IT WAS TOO LATE, YOU CHOSE TO LET HER GO. YOUR. FAULT. NOT. MINE."

I was shocked at his outburst. I mean, usually I was the one mad at him, not the other way around.

"Why are you so god damn ANGRY at ME!? This was your GOAL, wasn't it!? To fuck everything up for me!?"

"Only for a little while! I thought you would eventually go crazy with guilt and tell her and then everything would be fine and fucking dandy! BUT NO. YOU FUCKED EVERYTHING UP."

"WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE!? I WAS THE ONE IN LOVE!"

"JUST BECAUSE YOU WERE IN LOVE WITH HER DOESN'T MEAN THAT I WASN'T, JIMMY!"

I stared at him. I couldn't move, I couldn't think. This blow was just too hard for me to take in this drunken stupor I was in.

"You're lying. You're lying and doing all this shit just to spite me."

He just stared at me with that dead-eyed stare again.

This was the first time that I could remember where he wasn't looking at me like I was gum on the bottom of his shoe or like I was a complete and total moron.

"Whatever. Bye Jim."

And then he was gone.

And I looked around, and all of the liquor monsters were gone.

But I wasn't sure if I wanted them to come back.

Sept. 10
Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends
Like my father's come to pass
SEVEN YEARS has gone so fast
Wake me up when September ends
Here comes the rain again
Falling from the stars
Drenched in my pain again
Becoming who we are
As my memory rests
But never forgetswhat we were what I lost
Wake me up when September ends
Ring out the bells again
Like we did when spring began
WAKE ME UP WHEN SEPTEMBER ENDS
Here comes the rain again
Falling from the stars
Drenched in my pain again
Becoming who we are
As my memory rests
But never forgets what I lost
Wake me up when September ends
Summer has come and passed, The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends
Like my father's come to pass, TWENTY YEARS has gone so fast
WAKE ME UP WHEN SEPTEMBER ENDS