Tonight it narrowly escaped my clutches. The beauty of drinking til close. It was one o’clock, and I had gotten to the point where the bartender was starting to give me free shit. But my brother was antsy to leave, since the bar was clearing out. Without him it would be a long drunken walk home. One which I might not remember the way…

I’m of the mind where, if you’re at a bar, and halfway drunk at one in the morning, then you really owe it to yourself, to the bar, to the world, and to Sweet Lord Jesus in Heaven to stay at said bar and get fucking plastered in that remaining hour. It’s like the universe is crying out for it. Desperate pleas, both alluring and maddening fill the air and filter through to your ever-more clouded mind…

Ah, but to have thrown down two or three more Yuenglings. Then I could have come back and written the world’s most beautifully illegible blog posting. Ah, me…