Eighty-two days.

It was a good run.

Look who's drunken blogging!

No, that's misleading. It hasn't been so long that I would define two and a half drinks as "drunk."

But I am here. And I have consumed some alcohol. Consider yourself forewarned.

Grievously, many of the Great Truths I unwraveled on the drive home have disappeared into the fog of memory. I'm sure I'll stumble over them again soon.

There was something about blogging as both a microcosm and a macrocosm...

and something about Death as a great, glowing, golden orb that is sending out tendril after burning tendril to pull you back into its own mass.

To be perfectly honest, I have been in a horrid mood. Oh, I feel perfectly fine 98 percent of the time. But at odd, inopportune moments, I get a surge of endorphins and I suddenly feel a heavenly elation, as if all is as it should be.

Then it goes away and I realize that I'm not feeling the way I thought I was.

It's not like I'm feeling unhappy per se. It is more like waking up for a moment and realizing that instead of a blanket, you've grabbed a thin sheet and have been shivering violenty to stay warm.

It's uncomfortable.

Then you go back to sleep, and it doesn't matter again.

I would suspect The Bell Jar as a culprit, but I only been reading that this past week.

I think my seratonin levels are shot to hell. I'm not too proud to admit that my emotions are almost completely influenced by a very delicate system of neurotransmitters.

Those wacky guys, norpenephrine, dopamine, and serotonin are at it again, all fluctuatin'.

That would explain my propensity as of late to watch movies. Most notably, catching the Sunday night showing of The Return of the King.

And in another respect, the fact that I haven't been putting up anything original on here as of late as far as creative writing goes.

As I told Dan and Alan at the bar tonight, not drinking has proven to be a grand experiment.

Let us see what happens next.

Heh, maybe I'll drop all of my classes and take that ludicrously profitable job working with extremely hazardous chemicals.

It's all about the bling, right? Small matter if I end up looking like Two-Face.

Half a face is better than none.