Last Saturday night, I and my mate Yukka parked our arses outside the Irish Pub in The Rocks, for our usual imbibing of epiphanies at the fountain of wisdom.
With the exception of a single shot of Sambuca, it was James Squire all night, served in a beautiful, tubular glass embossed with the James Squire name and logo. One drink became, you know how the story goes, the one drink that takes you to the state of inebriation, on the good bus verbal diarrhoea, ending at the Cafe Lounge, where I could collect my euphonious thoughts before I called it a night to hop, jump and skip home, whistling Dixie.
After the first toast, we walked to the Harbour View Hotel. There we were rudely interrupted by flock of hen’s out for a night on the town, before the ritual plucking of the feathers. I posed as 007; Yukka took his shirt off, which he rather enjoyed. A few photos, two chocolate coins, and a free drink later, we continued on our way to the glorious state of inebriation.
You won’t get to see any photos on Facebook, because we don’t know their names and they don’t know ours. That’s way it usually is right? “Strangers in the night…………”
On the fourth drink, Yukka said to me: “I don’t understand how you have fallen out with these people. You are quite amiable to me.” I laughed and replied, “But that’s probably because you came along at a different point in my life.” I didn’t elaborate in great detail, that’s for another less inebriated time – because drinking leads to verbal diarrhoea that outpaces coherent thought – but I did say……..hic!
I love talking, not just shooting the shit, but leaning forward towards my drinking companion, and earnestly gazing my navel, then leaning back, as they soliloquise about their own navel, or lack of. Then talking over each other, as you get more and more inebriated, pulling each other up on your respective bullshit, nose to nose as you lovingly dagger eye your mate, and tell each other to “Get fucked!” Then lean back once more, raising a toast and professing your undying love and devotion.
And the only difference between good friends and lovers is the sex, which is often bad or just plain lacking, can you tell which?
Even in this inebriated state, the truth will out, seduce you with its Siren Song. If you pay attention, and listen, and I do mean really listen, you will find all sorts of absolutions. You will learn many things. You will learn many wonderful things. You will have epiphanies. You jaw will drop at the revelation that people do notice when you stop turning up to events. That people notice conflicts between members of the tribe. That people will confirm that tribal gatherings can be quite the three ring circus.
Like I said, you will learn many things. Of them all, the most important, perhaps, but a salient one, is that you are not the only one fucking up. You are not the only one being labelled and boxed. It will be made abundantly clear that the people judging you and labelling you are themselves being judged and labelled.
So go forth my friend, you are a good man. A man among men. Have faith, for his eye is on the sparrow!
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Honest Conflict Leaves The Door Open For Reconciliation
Honest Conflict Leaves The Door Open For Reconciliation PII
Honest Conflict Leaves The Door Open For Reconciliation PIII
