Double Conciousness: Flawed Perfection

Today, after a long time away, I have decided to Blog. I've missed it. Blogging serves a great purpose in my life; it allows me to organize my thoughts and ease my sometimes manic unhealthy retrospection and self dissection. So as I faced another moment of emotional and psychological self annihilation and self-loathing, I have decided to blog to once again restore the equilibrium in my life.

Today I laid in bed for most of the day contemplating the series of events that has ensued in the last couple of days. I found myself falling into a familiar routine, the New York ritual that I have come to know oh so well, but continue to want to stray away from. Usual friends, and usual spots and usual addictions and dependencies like alcohol and love. I wrote a story once that used the motif of Hennessey throughout as a symbolic representation for love, for the man I loved. I whole heartily believe that the intoxication of both a control substance and the intoxication of the heart exist on similar leveled planes. Being drunk and being in love function like synonyms for one another, for I know that when I am intoxicated by either alcohol or love, I see through similar fogged lenses. My vision and thoughts are clouded by an unknown, unexplainable, crippling entity that transforms me into a slave, into a puppet, into a vulnerable creature at the mercy of her master. I've been doubly intoxicated many times before, actually, my previous relationship played out like a series of double conscious episodes. I was always intoxicated... and towards the end I could not go see him unless I was drunk first. This dependency helped to further impair my vision of who this man really was. This stranger who I thought I knew, was masked by the haze of alcohol and love. I was playing out a role, becoming someone I was not, and performing a "relationship" rather than having one. In the throws of passion I imitated, I read a script, and acted out his favorite monologues from his pornographic fantasies. In a drunken stupor even the greatest flaws are perfect; for when you are drunk ugliness is beautiful, ill hearts are tender and pain becomes pleasurable. Isn't this the truth for love as well? When we love we no longer see the realities before us, but create fantasies, perfected versions of our raw realities in ways that are more gratifying, that are easier for us to consume.

I had lost who Evy was through this double intoxication and it wasn't until one night I couldn't remember my lines, did the thick choking fog clear. Finally, I could see who he really was, and who I had become.

And so last night when I found myself in a similar situation, it made it more difficult for me to freely indulge. I don't want history to repeat itself. Nor do I want to forevermore live my life in a drunken stupor, rather, I want to free myself from the confinements of inebriation. I will not solely love when flaws are perfected through Hennessey. I want to see him through clear lenses, and I want his perfection to be natural and consequently flawed, for all things in life are flawed, asymmetrical, abstract, irregular, jagged and subsequently BEAUTIFUL. Yesterday will be the last time I result or depend on Hennessey to love, to accept, to see beyond the physical attributes of a person. I saw him yesterday and he was immaculate. I saw someone who in my alcoholic sobriety and my love intoxication, was the epitome of flawed perfection, and I loved it. This is all I want. This is all I ask for. This is all mine. So I will push the Hennessey aside and let love fill me with its natural toxins and fall into a wistful coma, into lovers' malady and Petrarchan sonnets and bliss.