The first day of class was hardcore. It was not really my anticipated cliché of public students going on their first day. That suddenly, a very lax man still corrupted by summer dormancy become ruffled with much moil. You better get your brain ready for if you have a loose one, you will trip. I happen to have one, sadly.
To say, I do not know anyone much in class. I can count in fingers my buddies and the rest are aliens. I know this is tragic. I will have again to heed for self-deprecating stunts to make friends—that is how most know me: a humorist I am not. My real friends are ahead of me so d*mn my life.
But despite of it all, my carouser cousins planned to hit the bottle as we always do in Trinoma. Firewater travels through our veins that every time it calls of refueling, our feet runs for quench. And despite, again, of my stewing over acid dyspepsia onslaught, I took all chances. Who cares anyway, my amour for alcohol is out of one’s mind. ‘See you later in hospital,’ was my devil-may-care answer.
We came in five of us first in the place. I took a Mindoro Sling cocktail as they didn't have my preferred Blue Margarita, very light I should say. And the usual bucket orders of Red Horse and San Mig Light to, I believe, wash out.
Before long, my sober being toned down as every time I took a leak, my feet tottered. And the moonshine reigning us shuffled with exhaust of cigar called forth out of thin air tittering; pulling one‘s leg over almost anything that loomed from our slipping unchaste. I kept myself sane as much as I ever could. My head might be spinning heavily but my thinking was quite unstirred.
It has really been my caprice to bore at people walking to and fro and around the place. Then, I started making my silence till we‘re the only ones left in the bistro and grill house. We decided to call it a night and paid our bill and went out. We stopped by the nearest café to temperate the intemperate alcohol.
If it was alcohol or soberness walloped its way to reach me, as something surfaced from earth’s depths—expected but unheard of. As I saw mostly crowds with the likeness of Heracles liquored up along, I tout de suite felt the vacuity, of this life abiding, became swamped by lechery rushing through every inch of my coming of age. To which made it water clear my gravitation to both men and women.
The dead air belching from my pith was of more disarray of feelings. A lone ore held of the few, by the few. And an enigma stolen from the unvarnished truth that I for one cannot refuse nor hand back, I hit the sack a heretic of my own.
Still, life goes on. Endowed with voluminous ventricles and atria to confine an all-inclusive perspective of and adventuresome bond. A man who can love anyone.
PS: i find this post ineffective. i might be too drunk.