Wino Puts a Blade to his Throat

Wow, I hadn't noticed that the last post I made was on monday. That is a while ago! I was saying to a co-worker just yesterday that the week had gone by very fast for me, but I couldn't really explain the reason for it. Must have been my frequent drunkeness. Blackouts are like travelling through time and space - like in Alien.

Speaking of alcoholism, not too long ago (a little more than a week, I suppose) I bought myself a flask! It's stainless steel and it's the perfect size for the inside coat pocket. I've got it filled with Jameson whiskey at the moment, and come winter it'll keep me warm while I wait at the cold, cold bus stop.

If I was blind, I'd get a St. Bernard for a seeing eye dog, and he'd have one of those little casks of brandly around his neck... and another keg-sized one on his back... at all times. Actually, it might be fun to get a seeing keg dog regardless! He'd make an awesome addition to any party. Upon entering the room, loaded up to the breaking point with booze, I'd play the opening bits of Beethoven's fifth symphony.



It's interesting how we judge people who consume alcohol. For instance, if a man were walking through a nice residential neighbourhood, drinking from a recently opened green bottle of Jameson whiskey, he'd likely be sneered at. People would shout warnings of alerting the authorities and children would scamper to the other side of the street to avoid him. But if this man were to drink from a flask? Well, that's entirely different! The walkers who passed him would undoubtedly say things like, "Brisk night, isn't it? That should keep the motor running, though!" And as they chuckled their polite chuckles and as they parted, the strangers would insist that the flask-carrying fellow was a "perfect gentleman."

But why are drinking from the bottle and drinking from a flask looked at so differently? I mean, all of you've done is poured your liquor into a metal container! Way to go, drunkard! Despite your clouded state of mind, you still possess enough dexterity to avoid spillage. Say, top off the ol' coffee, would ya? Heh heh heh.

And speaking of deadly past-times and metal, yesterday I attempted my first real straight razor shave. I had goofed around with another one of my blades in the past, but it wasn't shave-ready, so I just ended up irritating my skin. But the razor I used yesterday was very sharp. I guy named Lynn Abrams sent it to me from Ohio. He's the founder of the straightrazorplace.com website. There they can tell you everything you need to know about this art.

Anyhow, I can report that the final result was not an overly smooth face. I had difficulty shaving my right side because I'm right-handed and I wasn't about to trust my evil left arm with that blade. Stogey Nightclub was nearby at the time but claimed he couldn't watch me drag a blade across my neck like that and left the room. A weak stomach he must have. I told him I might decide to purposely cut my jugular just to watch the arterial fountain coat the mirror red and him scramble to save me. (At least I hope little brother would save me.)

Oh, and I did cut myself, by the way; but it was just a common couple of nicks not unlike the ol' two-bladed razor'll give you. I cut my chin. That's a very difficult area to shave, not only because it's a rounded surface, but because the hairs are generally tougher and grow every which way.

As of now, I have five straight razors. I like four of them quite a bit, but one of the ones my mom bought for me was a "shavette" razor, which has disposable straight razor blades. It might make a good letter opener, though.