I compose under the watchful eye of the red Che, who’s adorned walls everywhere for years. It keeps me striving for some form of truth from within.
Post-binge end of the weekend. My wonderful wife is back after a few days away and I am sodden with two days after the fact of a Chardonnay and Corona blast and the realization that my actually heartfelt attempts at recovery are shattered like the once proud writing of “The Sopranos” as it lurches to a pitiful death. Although the peyote was a cool touch.
Like Tony, I really don’t feel too bad about what I do. I have a code. It’s Pike Bishop’s code…..but it’s a code. I do bring a soupcon of honor to my life and real love to my beautiful wife. I love her. I’m a schmuck and I’m better than I used to be. A fact gleaned Satruday morning as I ran at an area track, smelling the wine seep out of my pores. If they move, kill ‘em.
