I want to get drunk but how I don’t know cause I’m busted
I still have no regrets about leaving the politically-crooked and stress-ridden world of corporate publishing. In fact, I recently got even more infuriated with the whole thing when I noticed something my previous employer did. After waiting for me to leave the company, they went ahead and implemented some of the systems I had been fighting for over the five plus years I was there. This of course gives someone higher up the chance to take credit for it. The news just served to further validate my decision to leave all that bullshit behind.
Of course I have to confess to not liking one aspect of being self-employed and that is the lack of steady income. Oh, I’m able to pay my bills, but I’ve had to cut back on a few things as would be expected. Nothing has been too drastic. Cook more often and eat more pasta. Buy more non-name brand items and less junk food. Stay with friends when taking a vacation and so on. I can handle it all but there is one thing that even causes my friends to look at me with pity.
Over the years I’ve become somewhat of a beer snob. I don’t drink beer too often and when I do, it’s usually something like Guinness or Smithwick’s. Recently I was turned on to Hoegaarden. Usually I’m drinking fine Russian vodka or smooth American whiskey. At best I’ll mix it with a soda—you know the classic highball. However, my tightening budget and my desire to drink recently came to blows as I found myself doing the unthinkable.
One Tuesday night while hanging at The Goldhawk in Hoboken, I was feeling the penny pinch coming on strong. I wanted to drink so I went to the bar and asked what the special was. Even though I’m there almost every week, it was rare that I’d even think to ask such a thing. I shuttered when I was told, “$2.00 Buds.” My skin began to crawl in terror as I heard my own voice say, “I’ll have a Bud.”
Suddenly, the voice of Ray Charles rang in my head:
My bills are all due and the baby needs shoes and I’m busted
Cotton is down to a quarter a pound, but I’m busted
I got a cow that went dry and a hen that won’t lay
A big stack of bills that gets bigger each day
The county’s gonna haul my belongings away cause I’m busted.
I went to my brother to ask for a loan cause I was busted
I hate to beg like a dog without his bone, but I’m bustedMy brother said there ain’t a thing I can do,
My wife and my kids are all down with the flu,
And I was just thinking about calling on you ’cause I’m busted.
Well, I am no thief, but a man can go wrong when he’s busted
The food that we canned last summer is gone and I’m bustedThe fields are all bare and the cotton won’t grow,
Me and my family got to pack up and go,
But I’ll make a living, just where I don’t know cause I’m busted.
I’m broke, no bread, I mean like nothing…
– “Busted” by Ray Charles © 1963
Of course the biggest problem, besides the embarrassment of drinking a crap beer, is that this stuff gets me sick. I never get hangovers really except when I drink Budweiser or other low-quality, cheap beer. Yes, there are some slightly better cheap beers and friends have suggested I switch to wine, but it all has the same effect on me. My stomach gets all churned up and my head beats like Tito Puente.
So I’ve made a decision; until I can afford to drink a quality beverage, I simply will not drink. It’s just not worth the pain. I’d rather save up my coins to have a decent night out. Happily, July is gearing up to be a good month for me financially. I’ve secured two gigs that will help me in my quest for better booze. And in the end, isn’t that how we measure success? By the excellence of our habits?
