Monday, August 24, 2009

The Rocky Mountain Project

The Rocky Mountain Project:
(AKA The Hunter S. Thompson Experiment)

To catalog an entire day of drinking on one's own. The experiment will end as soon as I am actually joined by another person and ,therefore, not left to my own devices...most likely when my wife gets off work at 11:00.

The start of each beer will be recorded and (situation permitting) an observation will be recorded. Any supplemental liquor will be recorded as well.

1st beer, 3:27 pm:
I'm calling this “The Rocky Mountain Project” because this idea has been on my mind of late, but mainly because Coors was on sale at Rite Aid for $10.99 for an 18 pack. It seemed like a sign from the gods. I'm starting the experiment on a fairly empty stomach, so the results could well be disastrous. I'm also planning on watching the Red Sox/Yankees game today and maybe going to Seven Grand. If so, the experiment will be conducted via mobile device. I should call my mother before I get too deep into the experiment...

Mid-beer, 3:54 pm:
The call to my mother was fairly unsuccessful. Going to the store to get food so the project isn't terminated prematurely...

2nd beer, 4:38 pm:
There's something in the air already, like the stink of an animal rotting on the side of the road, or maybe the sweet, sickly smell of serendipity. On my way to secure junk food at the local Ralph's, I was almost hit by some dumb girl driving a white Benz. Ralph's had an extra supernatural sense about it, as more and more troglodytes from USC begin filling the area. Resisted the urge to both buy more booze and school an early 20-something's urge for Jack Daniel's...but I'm no Evangelical Bartender today...this is the Lord's day of rest.
Serendipity smelled even more like rotting fruit as I walked back from the store and saw the same Benz that almost hit me on my way out...

5:10pm, mid-beer:
Fucking Derek Jeter just hit a home run off Beckett's first pitch... my day is in peril...

3rd beer, 5:17 pm:
Not much left to say. I have a feeling today's experiment will be overshadowed by the game...a tragedy waiting to happen. I'm amazed by the amount of lazy, junk-food-style products that are being advertised during baseball games. Be fat, be lazy, wish you were an athlete...
These gnats are driving me fucking nuts...

4th beer, 6:02 pm:
Hitting the backspace more than usual. Ignored a call for fear it might disrupt the experiment (sorry Lee).

Mid beer. 6:20 pm:
All this structure is beginning to ruin the experiment. I'm going to need to seek solace outside the confines of the domicile. I can't almost get hit by a car sitting on the couch. The dogs are sitting behind me on the couch...looking at me with hungry eyes...what's for dinner? My guts still hurt from a few nights ago.

5th beer. 6:48 pm:
“There's something coming this way.” I couldn't agree more. I need to read more fiction, as an interpretation of life in baseball analogies...immerse myself in prayer and the smell of my baseball glove and the pages of anthologies. (The Red Sox are getting swept by the Yankees in this series. Hard liquor is evident.)

*just a taste of bulleit*
The dogs are hungry...agitated. They should be fed. My wife is coming over on her break from work with food. A mild repreave that won't disrupt the experiment. I'm hoping I'll see the Sarge tonight if I go to the Grand...but that might make the experiment less viable...

6th beer. 7:43 pm:
To open the 6th run in this series... a quote from Ursula K. Le Guin:
There was a change. It must have been the pressure that changed first, although we did not know it. The eyelids are sensitive to touch. They must have been weary of being shut. When the pressure upon them weakened a little, they opened. But there was no way for us to know that. It was too cold for us to feel anything.

Mid beer. 8:15pm:
I'm having a conversation via online messaging with an old classmate. Strange...

7th beer. 9:13 pm:
After a quick diversion...and sobering up... I'm in the mood for some music...maybe the bar in an hour...

9:45pm mid-beer:
I'm caring less about grammatical and spelling mistakes. Drunk enough to be singing along to “Rocket Man” loud enough to piss off the neighbors... if they can hear me... I remember when I did karaoke with Yoshi in his hospital room. I miss that guy and should play music with him more often... I love Elton John and I don't care what anyone says. Tom Wait's “Kentucky Avenue” makes me cry every time I hear it... there...I said it.

Mid-beer 10:08 pm:
one more song and i'm off to the bar. Audry's barking in her sleep. Adorable. The experiment is almost over... it's time to go to the bar... conclusion to follow...

Conclusions from the Morning After:
A brief panic struck me as I turned on my computer, for I thought that all my data was lost. The pain of the hangover that accompanied this body of research is too overwhelming to be considering another attempt any time soon. From my best estimations, the bar went as follows...
Two beers and maybe two shots were had at the bar. Casual observers seemed to back the project and I should start presenting these ideas to people with money in an attempt to secure financial backing. I ran into Victor Delgado. He was more than happy to join in the public drunkenness. However, trying to convince a man that he's had too much to drink and shouldn't drive is like trying to convince a bear not to fish for salmon. At least half an hour was lost to drunken negotiations on how to deal with both a drunken comrade and his car, parked on the wrong side of the road.

A quote from the note I left on my phone, “Last beer and last shot...unknown time. The project seems to be a success among most obaservers (sic). Much information will be lost away from the main.frame...things are looking up...”

CDs left out due to the surprise that the music within wasn't already on my computer:
Hot Water Music, “Caution” and “A Flight and a Crash.”
Alkaline Trio, “Maybe I'll Catch Fire.”

All in all, The Project was a minimal success. Next time I should consider video, in order to catch myself in all kinds of embarrassment. I have learned one thing; drunken projects are much more rewarding when shared. That way, people can see what kind of a drunk you really are.


  1. side effects may include: drunken bonding, overly strong bear hugs and hangovers given to your wife.

  2. other side effects may include:
    smoking until your lungs break up with you and go in search of another.
    see also: waking up with your liver making eggs and coffee
    see also: used condoms in the kitchen sink.
    however, i think the project may have been more successful than you think. bonding with elton john is nothing to be scoffed at