Drunk.
Plainly put, I am tanked, or I should say, Tanked Out. I have been drinking for hours, touring the bars of Joplin for actually the first time since I moved back. Lets see... first there was the "dead, trendy, money, indie, or no fuck bar," then there was the "lesbians anonymous" bar, then there was the "hipster, college elitest dick bar." Figures. Leave it to Joplin to turn me away from the bars for good. You know, sometimes I really don't know why I am still here. Apart from my bike being stolen and such, I think I perhaps should have never come back. It might have been easier on my and everyone if I had just stayed put.
*I do realize that as of the last, say, eight entries or so I have been a depressive asshole; I want to apologize for that. I don't want to be and I'm not going to be anymore; at least i will try not to be. Cynics never win, its in the goddamn rulebook or something.
C.A. Dominick
1 comment:
"question and answer"
he sat naked and drunk in a room of summer
night, running the blade of the knife
under his fingernails, smiling, thinking
of all the letters he had received
telling him that
the way he lived and wrote about
that--
it had kept them going when
all seemed
truly
hopeless.
putting the blade on the table, he
flicked it with a finger
and it whirled
in a flashing circle
under the light.
who the hell is going to save
me? he
thought.
as the knife stopped spinning
the answer came:
you're going to have to
save yourself.
still smiling,
a: he lit a
cigarette
b: he poured
another
drink
c: gave the blade
another
spin.
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