Owl Opinions

Oh the Glorious Bottle

Another reminder of impending doom. The reports are not good. He is basically knocking on Heaven’s door. It’s not easy. He is not going to ever be cured of his addiction but I just wish he would be. Just so that he could have a chance at something his bloody father never had – to live and die with dignity. Alcoholism. Alcohol addiction. Yes that is what this fucking misery is. It’s everywhere.

And Sri Lanka does not give a flying fuck. It never did. Instead it glories in alcoholism – in being so ‘wasted’ that you pass out puking and almost choking on your own vomit. It glories in men being so drunk that it’s acceptable at a school level Cricket or Rugby match. Getting drunk and wasted being such a thing to do. Do you know what alcoholism does? Have you seen an alcoholic die? No? Go see. You’ll love it – the joys of being wasted beyond measure. So wasted that your body deteriorates. So wasted that your organs are struggling to live while shutting down. Your kidneys failing to work. Your liver which can regenerate unable to do so anymore coz you have ruined it so much with ethanol which is pure poison disguised as the elixir of fun. Your heart enlarged, Potassium raging through your body. Your oesaphagal veins popping from too much drink so much so that they are waiting to pop and bleed so that you would be choking on your own blood and slowly and painfully dying. Go see the glory of alcohol in the addict who said “it’s just a small shot machan”. Watch like a fool while the small shot machan slowly started to increase it to two and then four till it was half a bottle a day. Where you’re paying the Bothalkaraya to take the bottles, not the other way round. Coz there are too many. Watch as the addict slowly loses control while all the while foolishly thinking he is in control. Because it is a him – most often than not. Men. Because men refuse to feel no? You don’t feel. You just bury all that feeling into the abyss of your brain till it can’t take it no more.
And mark my words, it will erupt. It will make Krakatoa look like a candlelight in comparison. And then you can bleed your woes into the bottle that has now taken control of your life.

Do it machan. Put another shot. Fuck the world and let’s get high. Maara motto no? What dumb fuck ever taught you that? Where the hell did you learn such slow suicide? Because that is what addiction does – it kills you slowly, painfully and the suffering is not just for you. Oh no. It’s on every sorry motherfucker who ever gave a damn about you. Continue the shot machan. Push your limits – coz you’re the man na? The man, the legend, the absolute fucked up mess. Wow such glory. To die with a bottle on your lips and your ego soaring while your body is decomposing as you struggle to live.

Long live Sri Lankan dumb fuckery and its hopeless addicts. And God help those of us who are foolish enough to give a damn.

 

 

 

Meet Lilanka
“what is meant to be comes about of what one does”.
An eclectic personality with a penchant for creativity, Lilanka is an old soul who loves life, laughter and stepping off the beaten track. She finds joy in nature, travelling and venting her existential frustrations via her writing while calming her body with food and her soul with music. Her motto is – “what is meant to be comes about of what one does”.
A collection of eclectic expressions from life according to Lilanka Botejue. From her creative outbursts and passionate views to her love for nature, food, music and archaeology, Owl Muses is an attempt to capture these moments in time.
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