You shut off your emotions. Or you think you do; in reality you stuff your heads in the sand and pretend not to feel a bloody thing. When you do, you deny it and you grasp at these ridiculous excuses for why it's not what it is.

[He's drunk, and annoyed, and--well frankly he's not as honest about his feelings as he pretends he is, either. He's scrambling for some hard denial in the bottom of that bottle.]