What I like about being drunk (besides the blackouts… I love the blackouts) is that it brings out the honesty in people. I bet that if you think about it long enough I’m sure you’ll find that at least 3 of your top 5 life accomplishments where made so with the help of alcohol. Of course, those same drinks that helped you land your lucrative deal are the same drinks that could score you a night of bump n’ grind with 500lb Shaniqua Jackson… or Tyrone Jackson. That’s neither here nor there; where I’m trying to get at is that alcohol is the most readily availbale truth serum, one that gets you a lot of times into definitely interesting situations… it tends to bring out the real person out of someone. I’m pretty honest as it is, but the main difference between sober Rob and drunken Rob is that whereas sober Rob is ready to say anything to anyone as the situations present themselves into what many people reffer to “being a smartass,” drunken Rob doesn’t wait for a back and forth conversation to express himself, instead opting for the first chance to stir the shit and rattle cages without being provoked. It’s a constant quest to not be bored that pushes me to being loud, obnoxious and “poking” people around to see what they have to say or how they would react if I did or said any given thing… the results, I record, because as I’ve mentioned here many a time before I feed off emotions and reactions so when I’m out there I don’t only get drunk on alcohol but I also get drunk on an emotional level… it’s great, you should try it out sometime.

I read what I wrote last night when I got home and I have 2 things to say about that: first of all, I like Alan Moore’s Watchmen a lot more than I say I do, which already is a lot. Jenny had borrowed the novel along with OldBoy and she gave them back to me recently so the book was lying around and I decided to pick it up and browse around it a little; yesterday I was hooked on Chapter IV, which is, in my opinion, one of the greatest excercises in storytelling I’ve ever read. It stars the character of Jon (Doc Manhattan), a “superhero” who was hit with crazy radiation after World War II and became who he is now… and his powers are downright limitless. He’s the worst thing a man with super powers can become: a god. He’s the only character in the entire story who knows how it will all end simply because of his power; he is not reigned in by things such as time or space… he can quite literally do what he wants with the universe. His powers are that limitless, and in this chapter of the story, without giving much away, Jon takes himself to the army base in Arizona where he “acquired” his powers only to pick up an old photograph of him before the accident and teleport to Mars, where he takes himself down the memories of his past life. It sounds simple enough, but the way this chapter is executed in the narrative is flawless… I can’t quite explain it with words, and it’s the sort of thing I could sit and analyze for hours (just like many scholars have done with the novel before, mind you) so please, the next time you see me ask me to lend you the book. This is a story that deserves to be read by everyone… it’s not just a super hero story, nor is it just a murder mystery or a conspiracy novel… nor just commentary on the Cold War and war in general, or the superhero genre flipped inside out into itself and taken for a ride. The story’s over 20 years old, and I find it remarkable that it’s still resonant to the times we live in presently considering it doesn’t carry the distinction of being “just words.” Anyway, it seems that the way that chapter is written stayed in my mind long enough for me to apply it to me eating a damn gyro. Pathetic. The other thing I noticed is that It’s pretty ballsy of me to come forth and lay it all out for you, dear reader. Writing is a very solitary practice, but when you rant and publish it for the world to see there’s something very special about that, and if there’s any good that’s come out of me choosing to follow my intuition and blog about what’s happening in my life in this here site is that it’s keeping me honest with not only myself but with the people around me. I think it’s great that anyone who knows me can just get in here, read the articles or whatever and, if they want, read about what’s going on in my life and how I feel about it. One of the things I love about what PortoDiao.com has become is that all of its members have sort of a niche they cling on to (Mauro’s photography, the Bastardizer’s video games, Marco’s movies, etc.) but if you walk into they’re sites you feel like they’re individuals; they talk about their lives, their impressions sound genuine and their insight is transmitted to the reader as if they were right there… and I take it that when I blog about my life and not about Panama, for example, in a way it might or might not make me more human. With the Internet being what it is today it happens to me often that people I talk to online extensively online are the same people I don’t talk to much when I see them live; is it because online chatting is a lot more impersonal? Since we don’t see each other then we don’t have to worry about what we say as much and the shyness or akwardness goes away, replaced with a messaging window.

Whatever’s needed to break the ice, I suppose.

I believe that whatever we need to do in order to keep people honest with each other is a good thing. If this blog is what I need to keep myself honest, then so be it. I think that’s why I’ve been lucky to meet all of the exceptional people I have ever since PortoDiao.com’s conception… and in keeping myself honest, at least that’s how I’m rationalizing this whole thing, I think I get ridiculous breaks I don’t deserve. I’ve been called so many things in my time and most of them with good reason. For the first time in a long time I feel like I’m getting free reign. No drama. This feeling is strange and foreign to me… but I’m glad. Scared, and glad. All I keep thinking now is “asshole, you better not let her or yourself or anyone else down.” What a ridiculously huge gamble I’m taking. Well… no one said it would be easy; if it was then life wouldn’t be as fun.

I’m going out with the Canadians tonight. I. can’t. wait.

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