Monday, November 5, 2012
I have what you might call inebriation guilt. Whenever I get beyond “buzzed” and into “drunk” territory, I inevitably feel awful about it, like I’m a bad person for losing control. For a while when I was fighting with severe insomnia, I tried smoking weed to help me sleep. It worked really well, except that the years of DARE and after-school specials have my subconscious convinced that drugs are for shiftless slackers, so I would end up leaving myself notes in an effort to feel productive. “Dear Sober Dave, don’t forget to pay your car insurance. It’s due next week. Love, Stoned Dave”. I stopped smoking once my sleep schedule was normalized, but I sort of miss those notes.
One night I found myself at home on the couch with a glass of scotch. I suppose I went a little further into the bottle than I intended. I remember sitting there with my guitar, strumming chords. I remember mumbling something. And then I remember falling into bed. The next morning I awoke to find an entire song. Once I listened, it all came back to me.
I’ve thought about re-recording it or changing some lyrics, but I kind of like the way this turned out: a work of fiction, but honest in presentation. No deep scrutiny or over-analysis went into this recording. Just a drunk guy making up a song at 3am.