Coffee and ecstacy

Fair that was easy. The first, tentative, awkward post out of the way. Now I sit comfortably on my sofa, tension ebbing away. One way or another I've sat in front of this laptop for six hours today! Six bloody hours and six cups of coffee. I drink far to much coffee but yet I'm strangely very chilled out. Without coffee I'd probably be asleep. I have no time for those that blame their drug intake for their mood and behaviour. The Greeks say to know the fruit of tree you must water it well. Or to put it another way a drunk prick is generally a prick but the alcohol has brought down his inhibitions.
Personally I haven't been a drunk prick for years. Years and years. My twenties were a work of art. I was on a mission. No insult left un uttered for I was obsessed with truth and the truth hurt. To be brutally honest I intended it to hurt. Emotional and embittered, double vodka and redbull in hand, no one was safe. women were dis respected and men insulted. Thinking about it, considering I couldn't fight to save my life back then I'm surprised I didn't get my head kicked in. Training and age has tempered me.
My point being I was a prick because I was a prick not because I was drunk. The drinking was down to my ill will and an excuse for my mis behaviour. I was a naughty boy because I wanted to be.
Of course now I'm a good boy. I hardly drink and my druggie days are a distant memory. I suppose I've become old and boring not that throwing up in the street is particularly interesting mind. but it's good for the soul and good for the body. in January I will give up smoking and you can close the lid on me. Enfant terrible to boring middle age cunt in 15 short years.
But wait. We all know I'm still capable. There is still the lure to waste a night in the middle of a sweaty dance floor. Feeling the bass penetrating my very core. Feeling the rushes up and down my spine. O the desire is still there. My partners in crime may have put on their comfortable slippers but this old quaver hasn't forgotten.