Date: Fri, 1 Nov 2013 22:21:33 -0400 (EDT)
From: Violet295@aol.com
Subject: Saturday Night part 8

Saturday night Part 8

Rachel and I spoke after dinner, strolling along the lakefront, a  normally
romantic environment, however tonight the mood was black and lifeless.
When confronted with bad news I tend to freeze up and get stubborn, so Rachel
did most the discussion, I just found myself lost in my  thoughts.
Of course her ideas were already formed and she spent the time selling
them to me. If I could get ion touch with my real self, I might have given and
argument but as it stood, I just pouted and felt completely  rejected.
After quite some time, Rachel apologized yet again, put me in a cab and
sent me home. I was devastated and almost in a state of catatonia. All I could
 think of was how easily I fall in love and what a patsy I am. I tipped the
 cabbie and walked in a trance to my door, unlocking and relocking myself
inside.
The night called for a real drink, so I broke out the vodka and  Kailua,
made a black Russian that  would cost twelve fifty in any bar in  town. Before
I knew it, I had downed the drink and was still beside myself, I  made a
second one and sat down in the living room and had a good old fashioned  cry,
sobs and gasping for air, the whole cry yourself dry  syndrome.
I am old enough to know life goes on, that all relationships do not
succeed
But once again I fell head over heals and warned  myself to be more guarded
next time.
Frankly my heart was broken, crushed really and I  felt blindsided. How
could I have
miss- read Rachel's signals so  badly?
Before I  realized the second drink was history and I stumbled into the
kitchen
and made another one. My thoughts were muddy now and  distorted, soon I was
feeling queasy and ran to the bathroom to heave. I must  have made it to
bed, because my first waking thoughts were where am I?
I sat up and my head said no way, so I laid it back on the pillow. Before
long I knew work was out of the question, so for the second time in seven
years,  I called in sick. I slept away a big chunk of the day but when I woke
up, I soon  realized I still had to deal with my emotions. Rachel weighed on
my mind like a  lead weight, I could not run or hide, I could not escape
her in my mind. Try as  I might, she was ever present, my disappointment was
complete, I was so sure I  knew her better than that.
I searched my mental dictionary for the right words, disappointment, bad
judgment, cruelty, misrepresentation, con artist, flake and ditz all came up
but  did not fit.
Somewhere deep in my soul, I could not accept Rachel's  explanation, she
was covering or lying to not hurt me but she was not sincere.  The
conversation came back,  her  body language as well and I suddenly realized she was
trying to spare me pain,  not from our relationship but from my opinion of her.
That was it, she was ashamed of herself and did not want to spoil my  image
of her. She loved e more then I had originally thought and was determined
to leave me on a positive note, before I saw the worst in her.
Oh my God, suddenly it was so clear, now all I had to do was to convince
her I am not so shallow and that her love is sacred to me and no cheap
emotions  can undo that.
I have to think this through; I need an edge, what is the  hottest
connection between us? Suddenly it hit me, we are connected on an  intellectual
level, I can win her back with my mind.
I got out a pen and paper, my sexy lavender stationary and my love  stamps.
I did not know her address, at least not all of it, so I looked up the
club and addressed my letter there.
Be Drunk...
You have to always be drunk. That's all there is to  it-it's the only way.
So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks  your back and
bends you to the earth, you have to be continually  drunk
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be  drunk.
And if sometimes,  on the steps of a palace or the green grass of
a ditch, in the mournful solitude  of your room, you wake again,
drunkenness already diminishing or  gone, ask the wind, the wave,
the star, the bird, the clock,  everything that is flying, everything
that is groaning, everything that  is rolling, everything that is
singing, everything that is  speaking. . .ask what time it is and
wind, wave, star, bird, clock will  answer you:"It is time to be
drunk! So as not to be the martyred  slaves of time, be drunk, be
continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on  virtue as you wish."
Charles  Baudelaire
I reread the note and sealed it before I could change my  mind. I put on a
hat and some jeans and took the envelope to the corner to mail  it. Headed
home I smiled, I just knew somewhere inside I was doing the right  thing.