Walking home and thinking after some gin.

A Disclaimer:
The following was written while highly intoxicated. I’m just going to leave it as is because it’s precious. (in a funny funny way. I wish I could spend one day with myself while drunk to laugh with myself.) So do take this lightheartedly. And I’ll give you TWO guesses at exactly who it is I’m talking to at the end of the ….discussion.



Winston is pissed and dissatisfied. I fed him two cups. Not the usual half in the morning. But four times the usual at night. He knows I’m gone.

As I walked home. There were shoes and they were blue and they sparkled with no light. As if they made up for the difference. I wondered about that. I would wear them now like magic shoes but I’m completely drunk and so they wouldn’t be really magical. If they were mine now and I woke up in the morning I think I would be sorely disappointed.
The shoes would also be disappointed because I would only sleep and love them and they would never know the adventure they should have had.

It’s amazing. The shorter your skirt is as a woman, the less you want to be with anyone and the more excessive the compliments you get. But even with the current level of intoxication you know it’s horrifyingly fake from those who comment on your lack of self confidence – even though the skirt gives you a bum.

Dissatisfaction starts with repetitions Many many of them.
Isn’t that sad?


?

?

I know many people who are sad because everything is so predictable. Only the really self controlled give themselves the appropriate amount of sleep. And here I am trying to teach myself the depravity of that matter – and loathing it at the same time.


Fight. Fight. Fight. That’s what they say, but they have a luxury and that is time, and space and acceptance. They are allowed to drink on the job. And I think that is a means to an end I do not desire. But I do desire self confidence. And I do desire an understanding of my own philosophy.
And my own limits.

Pretty much an understanding of self – that is key.
It would have been nice if someone had the balls to own up to that. But I’m not an altruist – and that person will just have to accept this fact. I’m not nice.