It’s best to strike while the liver is hot.
Somewhere between stone-cold sober and fighting to stand, there’s a lot of creative juice to be squeezed.
Don’t expect it to be much use the next day though.
Editing sober is certainly easier, but it’s painful when hungover.
Trying to be creative in the wake of half a pint of tequila just adds another bell to the banging between the ears.
The only time I ever truly consider throwing in the towel is when hungover.
There’s a lesson in that, most likely.
But right now, all I can think about is fried stuff with cheese.
Alcohol is only my third favourite drug, but it just keeps turning up like an old ex.
You know you’re not good for each other, and it’s not even like you have that much fun when you’re together, but for some reason, you keep waking up the morning after a party wondering why the hell you did that again.
These days, even a mild session saps the life out of me.
They say write drunk but they don’t say edit with a hangover and a blinding headache.
The ol’ engine takes a couple more kicks to build up a head of steam the next morning. The day trickles away, spent tinkering with nothing much in particular.
Everything seems a bit shit.
And I think, “Next time, just have a tipple,” knowing even that will likely be too much.
Christ, I’m getting boring fast.