lateedge

So I was just listening to Elliott Smith (the self-titled release on KRS.) I sat there under these god-awful flurescent (sp) lights and was immediately brough back to Portland. There was this club there...LaLuna?...and I saw so many excellent bands there. I went right after law school because I couldn't stand being around anything familiar a second longer and spent about 5 amazing months there. It always smelled clean even when I woke up after drinking porter all night and chain smoking Kamel Red Lights. Drinking was a completely different experience then. I would drink the city. Drink the people I met. Drink freedom. Drink fucking in the back of my jeep. Drink walking in background rain. Drink life.

That may have been the last time drinking was fun before I quit. I think when you're a drinker, and I mean the kind of drinker where it is part of you and your culture, you have this series of moments where everything sings. Where your ears are open to the music of everything and you are alive. Then at some point, you lose that and spend the next while trying to get back to that place. It takes a while to realize that you aren't getting back there, and I guess it took me longer than most.

Elliott Smith killed himself and he reminds me of when I was the most alive...






...until now.