Who’s crazy enough to do this? An impulsive drunk like me, that’s who.

Well, I’m Blue Ruin, a Seattle chick no longer drinking. I’m interested in addicts and addiction and want to share what I’m learning on my clean journey. This helps me stay clean. I also really like writing and I’m out of practice for various reasons, so let’s practice.

Heard of Blue Ruin before? I hope so. In Eternal Sunshine, Clementine Kruczynski dyes her hair all the time, including the color “blue ruin”. I have a lot in common with CK, no really. Here’s a quote that I actually would utter in so many words before I saw the film. I’m serious: “‘Im just a fucked up girl looking for my own piece of mind, I’m not perfect.” CK’s also a drunk and more than slightly impulsive (thus the whole memory thing, which I’d love to do! Wait, I actually did alot of it when I blacked out from drinking. Hmm. Could be a Film Studies term paper. I’m not writing it…)

Anyhow, the “blue ruin” reference comes from “9th & Hennepin” on Tom Waits’ best album, “Rain Dogs.” Good lord, I hope you’ve heard Rain Dogs. If not, leave now, heathen!

“Blue Ruin” pretty much sums up what alcohol did to my life, in two handy words. I also started drinking heavily about the same time I started listening to Tom Waits (Early Years Vol, 2 — the saddest record ever– thanks to my college ex, KL. No hard feelings, KL. Honest.)

Oh, Tom is sober now, by the way. Did you know that?

Music is a big part of my life, so I’ll be obsessing over it alot here in St. Ides Heaven.

Lyrics to “9th & Hennepin” by Tom Waits: (LISTEN):

Well it’s Ninth and Hennepin
All the doughnuts have names that sound like prostitutes
And the moon’s teeth marks are on the sky
Like a tarp thrown all over this
And the broken umbrellas like dead birds
And the steam comes out of the grill
Like the whole goddamn town’s ready to blow…
And the bricks are all scarred with jailhouse tattoos
And everyone is behaving like dogs
And the horses are coming down Violin Road
And Dutch is dead on his feet
And all the rooms they smell like diesel
And you take on the dreams of the ones who have slept here
And I’m lost in the window, and I hide in the stairway
And I hang in the curtain, and I sleep in your hat…
And no one brings anything small into a bar around here
They all started out with bad directions
And the girl behind the counter has a tattooed tear
One for every year he’s away, she said
Such a crumbling beauty, ah
There’s nothing wrong with her that a hundred dollars won’t fix
She has that razor sadness that only gets worse
With the clang and the thunder of the Southern Pacific going by
And the clock ticks out like a dripping faucet
til you’re full of rag water and bitters and blue ruin
And you spill out over the side to anyone who will listen…
And I’ve seen it all, I’ve seen it all
Through the yellow windows of the evening train…