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Another ANOTHER year gone by and all my magic powers (ALCOHOL) spent like lottery tickets. Tried to have two lousy beers last week and woke up with my head in a full nelson. They say that when your body is trying to tell you something you should listen, but my body just looks at me now, actions speak louder than words buddy. And so I drive around town, sober and forlorn, daring the cops to pull me over and test my walking skills. Only, I’m sure I’d just curl up into a ball onto the street, hair rent, TAKE ME AWAY BOYS I NEED A NEW TRAUMA. Oof, cue the ducks, it’s all just a bunch of boring ghosts upstairs, surfing LiveJournal archives. I used to be clever, even if I never was, I USED to be. Goddammit, I used to be. There is one benefit of forced sobriety – I am forced to reckon with every single mistake I’ve ever made, owing to my improved power of recall, and this remorseful clarity is a wonderful listener for someone who does all the talking. You’re never lonely when your best...
