Thee Morning After.
A lone strand of cobweb floats in the corner of this bright, morning sunlit brewery. It's been a long and feverish night. Bruises and cuts on my hands and leg stand as proof. I'm still scanning my blurred memory for the reason this large grass stain is on the knee of my jeans. Can these things be explained by using adjectives like "drunken" and "careless?" Probably... I'd say more "stupid" than anything. Either way, this warm and buzzing coffee house is a nice retreat. To tell the truth, I've no idea where I am. I've never been to Athens, OH before. The folks I'm visiting aren't up yet and I couldn't sleep. Somehow I rambled my way here. It's astonishing how comforting a place like this is after a night ridden with insanity. Ominous flashbacks of industrial ladders being thrown out of open, two-story windows and far too many cigarettes being smoked.
I must look so shoddy here. I'm unshaven, not showered. I've stained clothes, greasy hair and a greasy face. Fortunately the patrons seem to be taking no notice of me. I'd call myself a 'patron' but when I arrived here I found, not to my surprise that I had no money. I decided to settle for a free cup of water. Such activity at 10:00 a.m. on a Sunday. Label me a "typical college student," but there are many weekends that I don't see this hour. A couple of women to my right are talking about AIDS and HIV. They seem concerned, anxious. To my left there's an old couple, intently shuffling papers between each other. I cast my gaze straight ahead and there sits a rather heavy woman, blonde hair and a muumuu, sipping some sort of smoothie and dropping crumbs from her blueberry muffin on her USA Today. Looking to my North-East there's another woman in a brick red knit sweater, sipping a obsidian liquid from a mug while reading a book with a large Granny Smith apple on the front.
For some reason, I feel inclined to assume that three-fourths of these people are going to or coming from some sort of church. I don't touch that stuff myself... Some have taken notice of me, looking at them and scribbling in this notepad. They cast an inquisitive yet disapproving eye. Maybe my paranoia is just setting in. Things are getting crowded in here. Soon I'll make my departure.
I'm not really looking forward to going back to that musty, cramped dorm room and looking at my friends passed out on the floor. They'll be snoring, half covered with blankets, heads almost completely off the crushed pillows they were given. I'll be bored out of my mind until they finally awake and we can return to OSU. I recently read an "anti-drinking rant" written by our own DeadEyes. He has good points. There are so many other things we could be doing with our time. Furthering our skills, practicing the things we love. Instead we drink the opportunities away. Upon pondering this, a random thought floats through my mind. If I hadn't have gotten drunk last night and woken up at 6:30 unable to go sleep, would you still be reading this (that point is as valid or invalid as you want it to be)?
I know I'll be asking myself all day, what exactly did they do today that made last night worth it? Or what did they do to make last week worth it, or last year, last nineteen years? I don't think they could give me a valid answer. Hell, I might not be able to give a valid answer.