i am drun

I’m a little drunk, which means I’m honest in a loose, unguarded way, and also aware that tomorrow some of this will blur, soften, or disappear entirely. That’s the part that fascinates me. Memory is a leaky container. Tonight feels full; morning will arrive lighter, missing edges, missing names, missing the exact way a thought landed.

So here’s what I want to do before the tide goes out: let you ask me questions. Any kind. Personal, abstract, playful, uncomfortable, pointless, profound. Ask about my past, my tastes, my fears, my theories, my half-formed opinions. Ask things I’ll remember answering, and things I won’t. There’s something beautiful about responding sincerely to a question I may only vaguely recall tomorrow, like leaving notes for a future version of myself who won’t quite recognize the handwriting.

This isn’t about confession or performance. It’s about curiosity—yours and mine—meeting in a narrow window of time. Right now I’m present, unpolished, a little slow, a little open. Tomorrow I’ll be cleaner, sharper, and missing some of this softness.

So ask. Surprise me. Give me something to wake up to and wonder: did I really say that?

cedit ap nchatgpt i wcant wrintw this