Ack! Blech! and shit

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It's never easy. It's never hard. It just is.


I'm in a bar. I'm having a decent conversation with another regular. I'm drinkin' bourbon. She's drinking a vodka and soda. I order her a white russian. She turned 70 almost a year ago. I'm in a bar.


Should I get some water? Should I bathe? I don't want to walk all the way down the stairs.

A standard of skipping to the next word or the next time. The next idea is what I don't know.

However, I do know that I had an unusual coversation tonight. A conversation that you won't find in a bar very often, an intellectual conversation, almost. It was a spiritual conversation, without the drama of spirituality.

there was a woman who showed up half-way in betweeen her meth high and her next one

I almost tried to pick her up. She mentioned a boyfriend and I thought she was trying to protect herself.

Then I left and came home.

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