Thursday hangover and regretful memories

Listening to Nighthawks at the diner by Tom Waits.
Was out last night. All night. Didn’t see my doorstep before 3 a.m.

Checking out some helpers on hangovers:
After a debauch, take a little wine the next day. Take a cool draught of ale in the morning, after a night’s excess. The advice was given literally in ancient times, "If a dog bites you, put a hair of the dog into the wound," on the hom┬ťopathic principle of "Similia similibus curantur" (like cures like).
Means I should get drunk? But what about tomorrow? I must drink then, as well, apparently. Medical purposes.

I feel like shit. My stomach thinks that I’m a fool, but my brain don’t recognize the patterns of regular thought anymore, but that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that I remember that this nice, Swedish brunette was dragging me home, she needed protection from rapists and perverts, and I protected her with my umbrella, and we had a good time on the way home there, but then I was thirsty for a nightcap and left her. I never thought that she was taking me along with her for a reason, because I didn’t reason. Too much beer. I’m damn broke today. Great. Never got a name or a number. Fantastic. I’m just overly thrilled with positive enthusiasm.

"Apples eaten on an empty stomach the day after drinking is an effective remedy." Sounds good. Maybe I’ll try it. Read’s Hangover Remedies. This is what kids should learn in school. What regular day in a regular year in a regular life do you use algebra or have an acute need for it, the same way you have a need for a hangover remedy? One of those days. You just know you should’ve stayed home. The body agrees.

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