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Monday, May 16, 2011

i am sorry.

I am sorry.

You have always been there for me and I have treated you like dirt, an abusive boyfriend, emotionally, physically distant . I don't know whether I should use the excuse of youth or the fact that I know you will always be there for me and grow back to what we once we were if you still have the strength. Nevertheless I am sorry and here is a record of my sins and my regret at them. I am sorry my liver.

I am sorry for not treating you like you deserve, for soaking you in so much alcohol you could be used in surgery(let's hope it never comes to that.) I am sorry for years of abuse and for not listening to my one friend who remarked how strange it was that in order to have a life you had to lose your liver, well like an anti-abortionist I chose life and pursued it recklessly. What pushes me to finally write this long overdue apology is the weekend I am looking back on and the events of that weekend. You probably already know the events but a sinner must confess itemically in order to find absolution.

I am sorry that it began on Thursday night, this is when I went with a couple of friends to a joint I will simply call the place. I wasn't planning on staying long, I never am but alcohol changes my mind like a spare tyre. We began with a couple of bottles of brandy mixed with a coca cola. We continued with a few more bottles of brandy mixed with coca-cola. Sitting, talking and progressively getting drunk and then time and its tricks meant it was already midnight, a conservative estimate would say that I had 3-4 hundred ml of brandy floating around inside of me, on top of you. Crowding you, drowning you, sounding you out and I am sorry about that, the fact too that after we left the place we went to hurlingham to sing karaoke, and that there I added beer to the mix, but it was just one day so far, pretty tame by most standards and when I staggered into my friends house and slept you must have felt I would lay off the juice for a bit.


However that night I got a call about a party. I was home at 7 ready to watch TV, read a book and sleep but I went instead. We were meant to start off at the place and so we did. This time with some cane spirit mixed with sprite, I know these are a lot of different poisons by now but I wasn't nearly done. I continued to pour this down my gullet, flooding and irrigating my throat, molecules of alcohol rushing down to join the almighty assault. And the party had still not began. For the party we bought a bottle of vodka before we went. We were welcomed by other bottles that we took in stride, spraying them down the water slide, vodka slide at this point. We were there for a coupe of hours and liver, I did not give you even a moment's respite but I made a deal with you, I let you know that tomorrow which was saturday would only involve me going to that pesky morning class and then coming back home to sleep off the effect.

I had only 2 hours of sleep before the class, and I was tired all through it, I couldn't keep a train of thoughts fully coaled up and I left everything halfway then I got another call.
“come I buy you a beer.”
what's one beer right? Well location ,location,location. We went to the place and now instead of beer we had a cane spirit and sprite, then someone came over and we had another, then someone else came over and we had another. And the pattern had been established with every new entrant bringing some Jesus juice with them. I was properly sossed by then. And you were exhausted. I was making you work too hard. I don't do that to my heart,, i never run marathons, my brain even when tired is peppered with well organized breaks that make me feel better nearly immediately but not you. You are the girl who never leaves and is never appreciated till she does and I apologize.

I stumbled home at 3 in the morning and closed my eyes putting the alcohol behind me. Then I woke up got dressed and went for a concert at the alliance Francaise. Am glad I went Kathy Kiragu was playing the jazz piano. Which is actually just a normal piano played in the style of jazz. The chords spoke, they sang, they bellowed, they danced. The re-imagining of songs to make them sound jazzy gave me that beautiful mix of familiarity and mystery that we look for in nearly everything.

The concert ended and they said the drinks were free. A glass of red wine , that's it, that's all I started with a glass of red wine. Like I wanted you to know how it would look like to bleed. At this point a drop of alcohol would kick in the institutional memory and i was already tipsy. It's like I hadn't stopped drinking. And then I had another and another until the wine was over. But they had these beers there that mocked us with their freeness and they needed to learn a lesson. So we throttled them, choked them in our hands and squeezed them dry. At 820 my friend and I made a mad dash to a supermarket to beat the mututho closing time of 830, we made it, am not sure how because a run when you are drank is like a stroll any other time. Anyway we did. More vodka, more soda, less liver.

I got into bed and slept. Tired and torn, ragged and raw, sleepy and sore. And I slept.