But, isn't that what beliefs do? They react to symbols of what's really going on. Stories, religious texts, prophets, poets, griots, psychics... Television personalities exposing media explosions... "Magical things happening in this world" is what Laetitia Sadier just sang on Stereolab's "Peng." There is something happening- magical or incredible or not- and it's starting to become more and more opaque. The coming of the fifth world is what Karen had said. Who knows about that terminology. Some think it would be the end of the world; well, they thought it would be, you know, with Nostradamus and all these Enquirer/Star/World News reporters screaming in bold black and white that armageddon was upon us. I don't think it's a literal destruction. There aren't huge waves from the oceans, fire from the skies, widespread panic and looting, death clouds, locusts, meteors, and aliens. No- not yet, anyway. It's beginning in small ways- not the end, but the beginning. Maybe the beginning of what it was supposed to be like all along: a life and existence where things matter, where there isn't all the bullshit that makes life difficult in the first place. It's the shift into the beginning.
I was given a warning on Monday. Not of any of this, but just to pay attention. Maybe to better prepare me for the shift- prepare capital Me for the shift. I've been drinking a lot (too much) lately. Well, Monday, I met a friend out for drinks, then decided to round the corner to see who else was around. I saw Chad, his graveyard-shift-working cousin Ian, Abby, and some other dude I didn't know. We went to the Mark. I've been there and gotten ultra-faded before, sure, but as I sat doing shots of Jaegermeister, I became incoherent very quickly. I had already drank two 25 oz oil cans of Foster's and 3 Absolut Mandarin on the rocks.
So, all I really remember is tearing off the stickers on the condom machine and sticking one on the paper towel dispenser, one on the door, and one on the mirror; and finally, I remember seeing that mediocre-looking red head Erica (the girl who waitressed at the Keg). In fact, those were probably the last pair of eyes I met before I left and became completely unaware of what the fuck I was doing. Now, what I've been able to piece together is: I got into my car parked in a lot two blocks away, unrolled the windows, turned on the stereo, started the car, and actually drove. I didn't make it far; I made it three blocks- to Mulford and Western- where I somehow managed to pull over, vomit out of the car window (I vaguely remember that, actually!) and fall dead asleep at the wheel with the lights on, windows down, a cassette blasting and- best of all- the engine running. OK, so that's what I managed to put together for myself, you know, just from judging that when a policeman approached my car and I gave him my license, all of those things were evident.
I don't even know what time that was. Next, cops are just standing outside of my car. One of them turns the ignition off for me (thanks!), and it becomes light outside. I'm basically just trying to sleep; I was just so absolutely hammered that I don't even think I cared. They talked like cops do (can you blame them, though?) and my parents came to pick me up. One of the cops had gone and rang my doorbell at around 5:30.
I got home and puked again, and slept the entire day. There was a fellow from New Zealand over for dinner, but that's all that really happened that day for me besides sleep.
"So Zak, did you get a D.U.I?"
"Nope," I say, completely amazed.
So, God was obviously looking out for me. And, when I went to Moody's Pub for Keith's birthday, what did I drink? Ginger Ale, motherfucker!