I often write drunk. Actually, I’ve written most of my poems about drinking while I was drunk. Makes sense I suppose, you really are writing what you know then to some extent.
I’m guessing it can’t just be me, that drunkenly gets an idea in my head, picks up a notepad and scrawls over the paper in whatever pen I can reach first. Can’t just be me that gets up the next morning slightly hungover (or not), looks at the notepad and wonders what they hell that is supposed to say.
Often I’m embarrassed, even though it’s only me that sees, of what I’ve written while drunk. It’s like that part of drinking where you say things you don’t mean or they come out wrong when you’re talking. It’s the same with my writing because I say more with words on the paper than I do with my voice. So I get embarrassed in that same way, embarrassed by what I’ve written because it’s bad writing, a terrible idea or because it just didn’t come out right.
Sometimes I do feel it really works, writing drunk. And I know a lot of famous writers and poets were alcholics. Not that I’m saying I should I should write everything drunk because others did but if nothing else, interesting things come out and sometimes more honesty.
This was written drunk, and while this has been edited and made coherent from the original scrawl it’s not too bad. But it’s one of few that have come out well from the hangover edit.
Advice On Drinking From An Alcoholic
you’d like a drink
but I’d advise against it
as I sip my own pint.
It’ll suck you in,
pull you down.
I’ve seen it happen
while at the bar
with a vodka and coke.
As my own unsteady hand
lines up the empty bottles of bud
another man spends another night
in the cells
and thinks nothing of it
when he wakes the next day.
Neither do I.