sea legs

i left work to get some lunch. parked at the apartment, went up, smoked, pissed, put out the incense, and walked down to the restaurant. it was slammed. family people standing in huddles under the rain out front. the OPEN sign was not even turned on.

i looked down the street to the tavern, which served a greasy spoon breakfast for another couple hours. i didn't want to spend any money. i wanted every cheap, insignificant dime to begin a nest egg for some new glasses, or for the scores of rainy days this city. or at least if i was going to piss everything away, i wanted to spend it only on what i felt was the most precious social investment in my life at the time. the faceless creditors would remain faceless. her eyes would still glint green marble. ...and of course i would always require tons of herb to feel even remotely in control of my surroundings. mankind.

i walked very slowly back up the hill. the neighborhood burdened me. though i had no rush to get back to work, i knew i would have to return sometime that day, and i felt no freedom in this indecisive moment. such a little thing to throw off the balance of one's psyche. no free food here. stinginess keeps me from going there. work awaits. overtime pay for my inspired savings plan!

i went back up the stairs to the apartment, and in a sad flash it hit me. the whisky. it was already bought and paid for. it was on top of the fridge.

so, this is how it happens? we wake up one day and we replace a meal with empty, deadly calories. i must really be hurting. i was no stranger to self-medicating. still i felt a piece of my naive child self slip into the ocean with the first pour. i was daring to keep kids off drugs. i would never spawn any.