September 16th, 2005
112686631275541209
Fallout
Yesterday we had our company’s annual review. Afterwards, we went to dinner at El Paso and I got in way over my head with tequila. I didn’t feel sick, I just got dead, memory loss drunk; so drunk that I couldn’t even ride my bike for more than ten feet without falling over. I cut my shoulder, scraped up my elbow, and have a large, swollen, slightly bloodied bulge on my right temple. I wish I could have just done all this on my own, but unfortunately I realized halfway down Omotesando that during one of the half dozen times I fell off my bike, my satchel was gone. I freaked out and went back the way I came and ran into my boss as he was going home. He helped me find it; thank God someone turned it in to the police box right at the traffic light, but after that the drama and the alcohol ruined me. I made an ass of myself– broken up, stupid, destroyed, and sobbing to my boss about my salary and how I was thinking of quitting. Lovely stuff for the guy who’s ALWAYS incredibly patient and covering for me at work. I didn’t go in today, too sick and unable to show my face.
I’ve turned off my phone to crawl into my shell, temporarily, so I can run from reality until my head heals. I’m going to Nara tomorrow for a short trip as it’s a three-day weekend, though I think I’m going to try and code on the bullet train on the way down and back. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but essentially the only thing I can do to even come close to holding my ground is write an application level graphics engine by Tuesday morning when I go back into the office. God help me get out of this one with the last shreads of self-respect I can scrounge up in this wreck of a life I’m so talented at fucking up.
