Alcohol

It's the wee hours of sunday morning; I mean really wee. I just got back home after a night of liming with my brother from another mother and I am a bit inebriated, but clearly not excessively, I still have my fine motor skills. HA! For some reason I wanted to capture this moment as the alcohol was fresh in my veins.

I spent the evening at a bodybuilding show appreciating the time and effort which goes into the sculpting of the human physique; which makes mere mortals seem like gods. If there was the smallest thought in my mind that I was big, that thought was laid to rest. R.I.P.

The rest of the evening was spent communing with the spirit (namely Dewars white label) and observing my fellow sheep. The sheep in their colored wool and adornments were in full force, as is usual. Of course they were in cliques, the late teens early twenties set sitting on the bench, two of them were dancing (reminiscent of those childhood games girls played at recess with the slapping of palms and the sequenced movement) and singing the lyrics to some pop tune remixed in techno. The caucasians strewn all over the place; in the corner by the bar the congregation of gay men and women drinking a bottle of chilled white wine and behaving merrily. My pardner walk in with his big belly, his jabal and his cover story for the night. And the rest of the sheep are sitting at the bar and at the tables enjoying their poison of choice.

Sheep are interesting, even though under the wool we are basically the same, the color and texture of the wool and the adornment brings with it certain behaviour. The sheep with their nose in the air barely touching the ground when they walk; you would think they didn't even shit. Then there are those whose life's' ambition is to be like the stooch shitless sheep. Then there are those who don't give a fuck and come to join the rest of the herd; scratching their balls, pissing anywhere, dispensing profanities like Sir Allen Stanford handing out cash to west indies cricketers. The latter sheep make the rest uncomfortable by the way.

I always enjoy going out to the popular watering holes and observing my fellow sheep graze and drink; it's truly entertaining.

I managed to make it back home in one piece although I drove straight past my gap at first, I missed the turn; boy was I going fast. Clearly I had one to five many scotches.

But I'm alive to graze another day. HOORAY!

P.S. I posted this in a very sober frame of mind, I had trouble understanding some of the shit I wrote in my initial drunken stupor.