Fun To Write
Monday. I seem to have survived another weekend of partying, more than enough ibogaine and whiskey to go around (for a change): the women exchanging glares as they impatiently flicked their cigarette ashes into lip stick stained glasses; the men, I among them, lying half naked and drunk, draped over the couches and chairs, all of our energies spent on alcohol, drugs and debauchery. Yet this was only Saturday, two in the morning, three kegs of beer still untapped, Ed's squalid plan to pack our gear and sail up the coast in his battered barely floating twenty-four foot sloop still forming at the back of his brain: Ed, you swine, what were you thinking? But I'm getting ahead of the story; not good to proceed too quickly in this condition, particularly in the middle of a summer where the temperatures are so high and our bodies are so damaged what with that miserable trip up the coast this morning in Ed's now settled at the bottom of the ocean boat.
I take it we've packed our brain in popcorn and sent it out of town?
I had a few drinks late this afternoon and early evening at Chevys in the Hilltop center with Glyn, Eric, Christine and Y.H. and now, sitting here feeling pretty good, that's what came out. A bit of a disconnect from the look of it, but fun to write.
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