Why is it that...
when you wake up at four in the morning, aware but not truly aware of the happenings of the previous night, that you do not feel hung over yet. It is almost as if you are born back into your body for the first time and seemingly every little bit of your history previous to this 4AM point on that random Wednesday in March is not present in your mind...But wait, your first memory clicks in like the distant ring of a cash register. Oh how sweet was that first Guiness and the car bomb, how sweet it wa...wait wait, here comes another one, I think, a memory coming swiftly down the line completely crashing into the back side of the other memory at the bottom of the most unholy of unholy memory slides! Weeeeeeeee I think at first, but then, like the sound of gun shot, the cash register KaChing hits really hard and there is my memory looking down on me, tall shadowy, sinuey outline of an angry...and I begin to realize that my peaceful womb like state is slipping through my fingers like sand int