Last week I went out to see a movie with a friend. It was pretty heavy going, so to lift our spirits we decided to hit some bars after the credits had rolled. A few hours later I’d long since missed the last tram home and somewhere in a haze of strange concoctions I’d had this moment of literary inspiration.
It’s a bad habit I have, sending text messages while enjoying the swirl of a moment of intoxication. To be fair, such moments are not common for me. I rarely drink to excess, and in truth I rarely drink at all. I am a cheap drunk. After three beers, four at a push, I’m ready to dance, laugh at crap jokes, and eat greasy food from establishments of questionable health standards.
But what was I trying to say in the text I sent to my friend Theresa. I do remember sending it, but like all texts I never bothered to read it back when I awoke the next morning.
So yesterday, when we met one another for lunch, she took great joy in reading it back to me in a style befitting the works of a fine English poet.
“Wetl are the drunk duckstes in the jourd ule sky.
Lol. Dity would glee
Fuck the sky for money.”
I’ve looked at my ageing phone with its number pad smoothed down like a bannister from an old staircase in a building with outrageously high ceilings. The assistance of predictive text was clearly powerless to assist me at nearly 2am while I enjoyed the intoxicating embrace of another cocktail from the Black Pearl on Brunswick Street in Fitzroy.
Wetl are the drunk duckstes in the jourd ule sky. What? The jourd ule sky?
And that last line. “Fuck the sky for money.” Did I really mean to write that, or was predictive text attempting to fathom the notions of a somewhat sozzled Englishman?
I’ve heard it said that some artists enjoy their most brilliant and creative moments in the haze of an intoxicated binge. But it seems clear to me that the same oil that loosed the genius in some has revealed that there is sadly no genius or wonder in my pixilated soul.
I’ll try to refrain from reaching for my phone the next time I’m making that transition from my second drink to drunkard. But I’m making no promises. After all, lest we forget wetl are the drunk duckstes.
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Tambourine dream
A mans guide to drunk texting
Texts from last night
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Wrote the following comment on Dec 1, 2011 at 9:29 pm
I liked the two I got “Boute will hide for the acco. Well projed with the skirt” and “Cum on the slinkle lol with uk spoons” make me laugh every time I read them :-)
Wrote the following comment on Dec 1, 2011 at 9:41 pm
You can do a lot worse in that state . . . . count your blessings!
Wrote the following comment on Dec 1, 2011 at 9:49 pm
Thats not dunk text , its Scottish
Wrote the following comment on Dec 2, 2011 at 2:25 am
Hello …I think your phrase would be perfect for a
T-shirt…Its obviously a bold Scottish statement
worthy of 100% cotton backing, maybe not of parchment,
but who is to say it doesnt deserve an audience !!
Debra –Ft. Liquordale Florida USA
Wrote the following comment on Dec 2, 2011 at 6:07 pm
I think I’ve sent a few of these myself.
Wrote the following comment on Dec 3, 2011 at 9:13 am
What was the film you went to see? I’m just curious.
Wrote the following comment on Dec 3, 2011 at 1:26 pm
Simon, I think the rules of drunk texting are pretty clear. You should only send messages to your ex while drunk. Long rambling messages that assure her she made the right decision in dumping you in the first place. However, “Fuck the sky for money” needs to be on a T shirt!
Wrote the following comment on Dec 3, 2011 at 2:12 pm
Will is long time sufferer of my habit of sending drunk texts. Over the years I’ve sent him many and made a few drunk calls too. One time I remember was after I had been out at a Vodka bar after work. It was pretty drunk and had limited battery on my phone. I was laying on some train station floor somewhere near Liverpool calling him saying “Vodka” then the phone would shut off. I repeated this until the phone refused to co-operate any longer.
Perhaps when I am somewhat drunk I become Scottish? You might be onto something there James. But then again, isn’t anyone a little Scottish when they’re drunk?
@ Anne – We had been to see ‘We need to talk about Kevin’ which was pretty depressing and strange. I saw it at the Cinema Nova in Melbourne, where I have only ever seen depressing films!
@ Braden – I like to buck the hell out of trends.
Wrote the following comment on Dec 6, 2011 at 8:04 pm
As the Theresa who received said message, I have to say I immensely enjoyed both waking up and reading it, and re-reading it Simon (repeatedly) and all our friends. I’m always honored to be drunk texted — that, through the fogged and sozzled brain, a thought of me managed to poke through.
FUCK THE SKY FOR MONEY!
Wrote the following comment on Dec 7, 2011 at 12:17 am
oooo drunken texting has gotten me into a few tricky situations over the years….
Wrote the following comment on Dec 9, 2011 at 8:31 am
That made me chuckle reminds me of “predictive yetty” speak soon mate
Wrote the following comment on Dec 13, 2011 at 5:14 am
FUCK THE SKY FOR MONEY
Wrote the following comment on Dec 13, 2011 at 5:57 pm
Hey Simon. Just wanted to say it was nice to meet you at the Atomic Cafe and I’ve enjoyed having a look through your blog today (while I probably should have been working).
Enjoy New Zealand and have a great Christmas too.