mad drunk genius

I used to have all sorts of problems. Now there's just the one.

Tag: Bars

Everything terrible thing that happened once can happen again, & worse

——It aint been a year in this margin quite but nearly & may as well.
I’ll switch to a narrower pen in just a line.
——I never know what I want except that it’s always the other thing.
There’s a woman at this bar, lead singer of a damn good band, and she
asked for my number twice, texted at me twice, then ignored me. I dont
fuckin know what she after, but I’m too tired to put any work in to figurin
it out. Maybe that’s what she’s after & if so, good call by her.
——The band playing just now is good enough, but he cant really play
——Roger Miller worth a damn
‘The lead singer has laryngitis.’ Aint that just the way.

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Weak acid is a persistent chubby for yr whole existence.

‘It’s my birthday. Isnt it my birthday?’
——Bars exist to help give strangers a place to gather till they get
——just drunk enough not to care no one knows them.
‘I’m glad I got that off my chest,’ the scat fetishist said.
‘Whiskey neat is like [a novel]. It’s a process. There’s a beginning, a middle & an end.’
——A very cleansing poop, the soothsayer says.
‘It’s my birthdaaaaaay,’ she says, standing on the seat, cushioned.
——Ginger Falcon Punch to the face.
The brown-noser. The bookworm. The hippie.
——Weak acid is a persistent chubby for yr whole existence.
‘Nice sweater, bitch.’
——’You’re rad. Taste my weiner sauce.’
‘It’s my birthday in 11 — no, in 43 minutes.’
——It’s the power of art that someone often first relates their life
——events to some fictional happening.
Most of what happens to everyone else is fictitious, but so is
everything that happens to you.

The Vital 5 Review – A September drunk

——Stranger things have happened than It’s cute,
——a man ejaculating ants, you know. isn’t it?
If you cut him, he’d bleed money.’ This chemical response.
Psychedelic mayflies, bursting, soaring, withering,
 Art is an end to itself. Nothing ever ends.
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The mind is a soup du Jour

——Fuck what I do & that I have to do it, & every fucking worldly thing.
A woman today said to me that infant mortality is different from
abortion because God has the right to kill the unborn & infants &
children as painfully & awfully as might be imagined, but it’s
immoral (only) when people kill 
zygotes, embryos & fetuses.
——The morality of man exceeds the morality of God because God’s
——benevolence appeals to force, only, while man’s appeals to common,
——intelligible reason. Nothing, nothing. End of all none soon enough.
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Marvelous, this fantastic world, isn’t it?

Quentin, the upscale gangster banker, is not so awkward in person.
——Slip in to the backward way, then try to extricate again.
His limbs on one side —the left—were transparent as they began to reform.

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Goddamn! I get sicker and sicker each day. Head keeps on rottin out.

So welcome to the edge of fantasy, where the skies are gold and the brains wet. My neck is stitched up with murder but well-weaved. Not a vampire but the wolf, man. Dude, dont wander far from the rotting beach. The servant’s son had already washed away. But he was stillborn, legally anyway.

Susie, I’m sorry. It’s not enough to say, but there’s nothing to do anymore. Certainly no Casanova. We sent them all away to the East.

Burritos make quite the passing fancy. So please, let me pass that way at some soon time. But truly, someone once a charmer was relegated to the rubbish heap, where donkeys shit and dogs vomit but never return.

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