Some people
drink because of biology, others because of boredom. Some
drink to forget. The ones for whom
the tracks of the past need covering, who don't want to think about the
mistakes, how they got here. Some drink
beer, few others
wine. Beer is for
denial, wine for aspiration to class, transparent.
Those who no longer deal with the need on a conscious level drink
hard alcohol. They let
warmth slide over them and they're not cheap frat girls with
Long Island ice teas. They converse quietly, sadly. They
numb themselves to their history and the
history spills out. Rarely. Mostly, they remain
fixtures, making jokes with
aching in their eyes. They pass in and out like the
smoke.
Scotch and soda.
Whiskey, rocks.
Vodka.
Gin. At 2am they go back, eyes closed the whole way,
alone in a neon sea.