Spike's blog

This weekend I was dragged to the bars that circle my university like vultures do with a fresh carcass.

I sat at a table with a few new friends who made idle chatter, nursing my Ameretto Stone Sour (I'm quite the lush you see), as I watched the rest of the constituents of humanity file in to indulge in what is called "Happy Hour".

I watched as a myriad of individuals filed in, each receiving a stamp for their cover charge.

Stamp

Stamp

Stamp

Each and every single one of them ultimately looking for something, myself included. "What is it each of us here is looking for?" I asked myself, as I took another sip from my glass. Gray cigarette smoke filtering past my vision toward the ceiling from, what I imagine, was a dozen or so cigarettes lit in symphony.

And then it hit me as quickly and efficiently as any other blunt object would.

Escape.

We were, we are, all looking for an escape. Weither it is through self-destruction, commitment to a cause/ideal, or simply drowning sorrows/confusion/complex thoughts with a few simple swigs of flavored poison.