We were out of gin. The night was off to a great start. How was I suppose to get blackout drunk within an hour. I had a case of beer but none were cold. I left the apartment and walked over to the liquor store. I'd eventually get there and then I'd return and get drunk.

Why the hell was it all the way down the block. Not to complain, but that was actually great. It kind of was a problem when week after week the same routine went down.

"If you just waited, we could've went to a bar"
The first thing I heard when I returned only pissed me off.
I wanted to get drunk not socialize. Besides, I'm an artist, and my art needs a natural slant.

I think it all begins with a desire. You can't just go out and be the best. You have to know you're the best. I could quit when I want.

Three years ago days lasted longer. Nights could be spent outside underneath stars with a patience to see the stars. Only in Minnesota is it worth it to sit in the cold.

I might lay in the snow for hours, but that's not suppose to be a complaint. Los Angeles only results in drunken stars.