Lady alcohol’s infamous reputation

My day breaks. My mind aches. I find that all the beautifully distilled nothings whispered into my bloodstream the night before were just cheap and hollow threats. Lady alcohol’s infamous reputation stays harshly true to form. She coos you onward throughout the night, gives you strength and courage, confidence and charisma, she lulls the banal and carves up boredom like it’s a holiday roast. But when the first light of morning washes the sleep from your eyes you won’t find a trace of her smile, only the lingering scent of something that once seemed so pure and has now gone to rot. That smell must be how roses feel the day after Valentines, or a Christmas tree on December 26^th.

It’s always the same. I don’t know why I fall for it every time; I’m like a Loon repeating the process over and over but each time hoping for savagely different results. “Maybe this will be the time I’ll wake up feeling ready to conquer the world.” It takes my woozy coconut a few extra nanoseconds to see there’s no validity in this statement and the words “perhaps next time” have just left my mental mouth when I notice that there IS in fact a glaring difference to this morning. It’s a Japanese woman, literally glaring. She looks to be about 75 years old, which means her actual age could be anywhere from 40 to 100. My thoughts linger for a second on the implications of why she’s invading my vision so early on a Tuesday. I wonder what I look like to her and if she’s already drawn preposterous generalizations on the same magnitude as guessing her age give or take sixty years. Does she harbor any sense of shame about how her country has devolved to the point where rough-looking gaijin like me can fall asleep in strange places? Or perhaps she’s stifling that sense of longing that’s reminding her of what it was like to be young. How not knowing where you are was perfectly fine because the only obligations for the day were to find some food and explore a bit. Heh, I guess the exploring part got impatient and showed up early, before I’d even sent out a formal invitation. Well, the day has to start somewhere, I guess this is as good a spot as any. First things first, I need to get off this train…