When papa drinks he usually buys most of his spirits on Thursday when he is paid, and then he drinks a little on Friday evening and a little on Saturday. Sometimes he carries on all weekend. When that happens, he starts on Thursday and continues on Friday evening and all day on Saturday. Then Sunday is devoted to recovery.
When it comes to his behavior he alternates between being sentimental and aggressive. He isn’t angry at first, but as soon as he is more than tipsy he starts yelling and roaring. Most of it is directed at mamma, but you can’t avoid overhearing everything if you are at home. And if he has been out, you hear it when he comes home and he stands there and can’t put the key in the lock, and then how he stumbles and swears. And mamma and I lie there on tenterhooks, waiting for what’s coming next. Because in that situation there isn’t anything to stop him from pulling the door open and roaring: “Why in hell is there no food here!” or something like that. But I’m never really afraid, because I know that he never does anything. If it isn’t so late, and he has started early and is drinking at home, it even happens that I sit with him and talk. I don’t stay away out of fear. I feel sorry for him, somehow, and I can’t think that it’s only his fault that he does what he does.
I've been to town and purchased nail polish – Cutex mother-of-pearl – and three percent hydrogen peroxide. When I got home I bleached my fringe. This evening I may go to the movies to see “East of Eden” with James Dean in the starring role. It has gotten five stars in Se magazine, it says in the announcement. Then I will go to Svartbäcksgatan to see if I meet some guys who have spirits.
I didn’t go to the movies, because the weather was so good. Yesterday, when mom and pop had gone to bed, I snuck into the basement and took a little Vat 69. I poured it into another bottle which I hid outside until I could go to town. It wasn’t enough to get drunk on, but I wanted it anyway. I drank it while I waited for the bus.
It isn’t a good idea to go to town on Wednesdays. First of all, there aren’t many who are out, and secondly, there aren’t many who have spirits. But it’s such a long time until Saturday and Sunday and I want something to happen all the time.
I rode with a guy called Tim – not Tim Frazer – and one who was called Janne. Nothing special happened.
Björn has called. He asked if I wanted to come along with him and Lasse on Saturday, and I said yes. They’re going to pick me up at the bus stop. But if they don’t have spirits, I don’t know if I want to. Before the guys were the most important, but now I almost don’t care how they are, just that they have something to offer. I think that Lasse drinks quite often when he is not seeing Lena, and on Saturday she is going to Stockholm again, so maybe he has bought some. I hope so, anyway.
When I got off the bus, the Kapitän was already there. Lena was also there, because they were going to wave her off at the railway station. There was no point in going somewhere else before we had done it, so first we sat in the car in the parking lot in front of Central Station and talked. Lena played “Mule Skinner Blues” and Björn sang along.
“Good morning Captain… and good morning to you, sa ha ha ha ha ha,” he sang. He could sound exactly as the guy in the Streaplers before he goes up in falsetto.
Then Lasse and Lena had an argument. It began when Björn said that he thought he had seen me in town on Wednesday.
“Really? Were you in town then?” I said.
“Yeah, sure.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t see you.”
“What proves that you were there!” he said and sounded like I had given myself away.
“Have I claimed anything else, then?” I said.
“But I said that I might call.”
“Yes, but just maybe, and I didn’t think you would.”
Then he tapped Lasse on the shoulder and said:
“Toss me the bottle, damn it!”
And Lena turned to Lasse and stared at him, at the same time as she opened the glove compartment.
“Have you bought booze?” she said.
“Don’t make a fuss now,” Lasse said.
“When the cat is away the mice will play,” Björn said and looked at me.
Then we drank, because I also got to taste. It was Explorer and Merry. Björn came under the influence as fast as I did, and when Lasse and Lena went to the train, we sat in the back and laughed at everything. I didn’t want it to end. I really liked Björn and he wasn’t cross with me anymore and everything felt so delightful. Why can’t it always feel the way it feels when you are drunk?
When Lasse came back he had an ice cream, and then Björn went in, though he was drunk, and bought one with strawberry flavor for me and one with vanilla flavor for himself. Then we cruised around town. I hung on to Björn as he sang “Mule Skinner” and spilled Merry on his shirt.
I don’t remember everything we talked about. He said that he usually says to girls he meets that he will call them or come by, but then he just doesn’t do it. When I asked him why, he said:
“Because I get so damn tired of them. There can be ten or twelve chicks who ring me at home in the evening and ask me if I wanna see them.”
I can’t be interested in guys who brag and exaggerate like that, because I think it shows how childish they are.
He wanted to lay me. I had a feeling that he would get cross if I said no, but you can’t do it just because the guy won’t be disappointed. And I was right, because when I said I didn’t want to, he said:
“Well, that means that you don’t like me very much!”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why don’t you want to do it, then?”
“Because I don’t feel like it.”
“I never meet a chick again who doesn’t want do it with me, because that has to mean that she doesn’t like me.”
“You never see them again, anyway,” I said. “Or was it none of those girls who usually call you who wanted to do it with you?”
“Yes, every one of them!”
“Why don’t you see them again, then?”
“Now we are talking about you.”
“Yes, and I don’t want to.”
Then he started to feel sick and threw the door open and rushed into the ditch.
“Is he throwing up?” I asked Lasse.
“Yes.”
“Does he do this often when he drinks?”
“Yes, he gets sick very easily.”
I didn’t want to see it, because it’s so disgusting when somebody pukes. After a while he came back and tumbled down in the other corner of the back seat.
“Do you want me to leave?” I said.
“Yes!”
“No, we’ll give you a lift home,” Lasse said.
When we got there and I climbed out of the car Lasse did the same. I said goodbye to Björn before I slammed the door shut, but he didn’t answer.
“Is he grumpy?” Lasse asked.
“He is cross with me,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it. He gets this way sometimes. I’ll talk to him.”
I thought it was too bad that Lasse was together with Lena, because he was much easier to get along with than Björn. Björn was so touchy and childish. For example, he said:
“What is love? It isn’t looks or money or kindness, so what the hell is it?”
I want the guy to be older and more mature than I am, so that I don’t feel superior to him. And he has to be tender and caring.
Kicki has returned from the country. Yesterday we had decided to go to see “Blue Hawaii”, but then we went to Gunnar’s for coffee instead, before we began to walk on Svartbäcksgatan. I showed Kicki the book I write down all the guys in. First I write the date, number, name and age. Then I write what kind of car he rode in and the license plate number, if I have managed to put it down, and finally I pass judgement on him from one to five for his manner and looks. One is worst and five is best. I have never met a five, but Håkan, Göran and Kenneth were fours.
It’s fun that Kicki is back in town again. I told her that I want to drink now and asked her if she would come along if guys who have spirits stop and ask us.
“Yes, I can come along, but I don’t want to drink so much that I get drunk,” she said.
“Then what’s the purpose of drinking?” I said.
“Well, because it possibly tastes good.”
But I don’t drink because it tastes good.
We rode with two guys in a Fiat 600 the entire evening. The guy I was with offered me lemonade and smokes, so he was generous, but he wasn’t very good-looking. Before, when I was with guys I didn’t like, it felt like a waste of time. I was put in a bad mood if he was ugly or screwy and wanted to get out as soon as possible and try to find someone better. But now that I know I can drink almost whenever I want, it doesn’t seem so important anymore that the guy is nice.
Tuesday, 21 July 1964
E-L and I went out on Sunday. Yesterday, I started working with Stig. I get to do about the same as last summer, like type a little, sort papers and answer the telephone. It’s fun both to work and to see Stig a little more often. I like his company. We talk and joke around (we have a special jargon we use), and if he is in for lunch it can happen that he offers both cakes to the coffee and cigarettes.
When Kicki and I were at Tempo, we met Älgen, who I have ridden with once. He was on his way to Systembolaget and wondered if there was anything we wanted. Then I said I wanted to buy a small bottle of Explorer. I gave him money and we waited until he came with it. We went behind the wall by the toilets so that no one could see that he gave me the bottle.
We are going to drink tonight, and I am going to get drunk.
Sunday, 26 July 1964
Yesterday, E-L let a guy buy a bottle of vodka for her, and she drank it during the evening. I took a little, too, but it wasn’t very much. We had that bottle, which E-L carried in her purse, and we had paper cups which I had brought from home, and we drank the spirits (lukewarm vodka) straight in a back yard where nobody could see what we were doing. Then we walked on Svartbäcksgatan, and E-L staggered and was drunk. She went up to cars that had stopped and flung herself over them, and I had to restrain her and try to hold her up. I wasn’t sober either, but I could at least stand on my own legs. And I don’t know why they were so interested, the boys, but they hooted and shouted out and stopped one after the other and wondered if we would like to go with them. I thought we should hop into one of the cars, but E-L just hung on them and wanted to leave as soon as there was any talk of us coming along. And just when we were crossing Skolgatan, a police car came to the intersection, and we realized that it possibly wasn’t such a good idea to remain there and started to run. Then I dropped my purse, so I had to stop and pick it up. (I had my identification card in it, so I really needed to get it back.) And then they took me. EL ran away, but I didn’t get anywhere, because one of the police officers held me fast. I was obliged to climb into the police car, and I had to answer questions about who I was and where I lived, and when they asked how we had got hold of spirits, I said that we had been offered it. I took it easy and thought that now they are going to give me a lift home and drop me off by the street door, and then I’ll go into the stairwell and wait until they have left and then I’ll go to find E-L in town again. I took it for granted that I would be able to do it that way. But when we got there they drove into the parking lot, and I had to remain in the patrol car with one of the policemen while the other one went to fetch mamma. I can understand that they wanted to verify my identity, because I could have made up an address, but the way they did it made me really mad. Yes, and then mamma came out, and they spoke with her, and then I was allowed to follow mamma in. She had her pink nylon coat on and was on the verge of a breakdown. Papa had to take care of her. They went into the bathroom and she sat in there and cried while papa tried to calm her down. I, for my part, was told to go to bed. Then E-L called, but they didn’t let me talk with her and tell her I was at home and find out where she was. I had thought that I would go out again, because after all, it wasn’t very late. When things had calmed down a bit, I would explain that I was all right and that I was not drunk, and then I would go out again, I thought. But no, that was out of the question, and I had to go to bed, while papa took care of mamma. Nobody had any time for me. Mamma was so jittery and miserable, and of course you can understand that she got upset when the police come, ring the doorbell and ask her if she has a daughter who is called so-and-so. She thought that there had been an accident and that I had been injured. But I was so angry because I didn’t get to go out to find E-L again, and I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t allowed to do it.
Before we started drinking we each bought a chocolate ice cream and sat on a bench down by the river and checked out the situation. There were lots of cars out. We saw Lasse and Björn, Tony and Tiger, Cowboy and Biran and Bosse and Gurra. They played “Long Tall Sally” so loud that they could be heard long before they came by. Of the girls Doris and Anita, Sputnik and Maggan, Ankan and Lisbet were out.
Kicki had brought paper cups with her from home, but we didn’t have any mixer, so we had to drink the liquor straight. It was almost impossible to get the first gulps down, because it was like lukewarm piss, after lying in my purse, and tasted like hell.
“Yeah, it doesn’t taste good, but it will do bloody good where it’s going!” Kicki said.
When we drank, we went into a back yard so that no one would see us, but otherwise we were out on the street and staggered and sang and waved at the guys who drove by. We sang “The Thirtyforth”. The guys hooted and screamed, and there were a lot of them who stopped and asked if we would like to go with them. Why would they rather pick up drunk girls than sober ones? Because they think it will be easier for them to get what they want then?
In front of Fågel Blå we met a cop, and we pulled ourselves together, so he didn’t notice anything. Then I got drunker than Kicki, though we drank about the same amount. She had to go and drag me and ensure that I didn’t stagger out onto the street, and pull me away from cars I went up to and hung on in the line at the traffic lights. I don’t remember all that happened. I laid on the sidewalk and heard the cars that went by. Kicki tried to lift me. I didn’t help her. There were stones and old cig butts on the ground. She yanked and pulled my arm. “Come on, take ahold of me, try to get up, you can’t just lie here, you must bloody well understand this!” It was light and dark at the same time. The ground was hard and flat with a little gravel on it.
I don’t know how long I laid there. When I got up again we leaned against the railing at the river and smoked. The guys drove by and stared.
“If you can’t walk you crawl!” one of them shouted from a car in which they were playing “House of the Rising Sun”.
“They think we are drunk,” I said. “Are you drunk?”
“A little,” Kicki said.
“I never wanna get sober again,” I said. “I want more now.”
“But if you drink more you won’t be able to walk. You can’t even walk now, as it is.”
“Yes, I can! I’m just playing. I’m not drunk. You know I’m not drunk! Let’s go to the bridge and drink a little more!”
“No, it’s enough now. Now we’re going to stay here until some boys come and pick us up.”
“But I’m not drunk! And you don’t have to drink any more if you don’t want to. If you don’t come with me, I’ll go myself.”
“Yes, let’s go damn it! But I’ll hold you up. Support yourself against me here.”
And we went down to Eddaspången and over to the other side of the river. It was no use having paper cups when we didn’t have any mixer, so I drank straight from the bottle. I didn’t care that it tasted bad. If you don’t breathe before it goes down, the liquor flavor isn’t very perceptible. And then it feels so wonderful. Just thinking of it makes me start longing for the next time.
“Now we are going to have fun,” I said. “Now we�
�re going out again and do a bit of entertaining!”
I felt so happy. That’s how I have felt every time I have been drunk. Not the entire time, but after a while, when it has begun to work properly, and before I have begun to get sober.
“You are bloody heavy, do you know that?” Kicki said when I hung on her. “Try to walk on your own, now!”
“Are you mad at me?” I said. Do you think I drink too much?”
“No, but try to stand up on your own legs now!”
A car with two guys stopped. During the whole evening they came, in long lines, and asked if we wanted to go with them.
“Who are you?” I said as I looked in through the window. “Do I know you? No, I don’t think so.”
I lay over the hood while Kicki talked with them. It was warm and the engine pounded.
When you are drunk, you feel and hear more than you can see. You are as in a fog and don’t care what happens. I began to glide off the car and Kicki grabbed ahold of me and held me up.
“Now you stand up! Stand up on your own legs here!”
She was mad at me and shoved me into a gate.
“You need to get hold of yourself, or we’ll just hop into the next car that stops,” she said.
But I didn’t want to go with any of them.
“You can go home if you want to,” I said. “I can walk here on my own.”
“No, you can’t. You must bloody well understand that you can’t!”
A car had stopped on the street again.
“What’s wrong with her?” I heard a voice say. “Is she drunk?”
“Yes,” Kicki said.
“Hop in then. She can’t walk around like that.”
“No, I know.”
I heard what they said, but I didn’t see them, because everything was so blurred. Another car had stopped behind the first one, and I staggered over to it and laid myself over the nearest front fender. Cars are like strong, living animals, I think. I love cars. I especially love them when I’m drunk, because then I can’t size up how the guys are. Then I just see their cars and hear the motors and sense the smell of oil and gasoline. When I hear a V8 rumble I feel thrilled.
Hop in Then! Page 12