Not a year in review

But it is a week in review, or maybe this piddling vacation in review. Contrary to popular belief, it was not a self-induced alcoholic haze, there were no vomitting communiopns with toilets, and the run-ins with the law were quite muted.

For the third time in two days my shirtsleeves are wiping puddles of beer off this table. It's the same bar all over again; I saw people from last night. We acknowledged each other but steered clear, understanding that pursuing the fact that we were alkies would undermine our secret striving effort for "something more", as they say. Eventually, intoxicants turn lower brain functions on autopilot and I become in essence a high-end digital camera for the rest of the night:

...an hour walking in the cold now, and not one goddamned windswept white plain!

...blood vessels on the retina engorged.

...careeening humvee on a side street.

...warm spells, cold spells, all visualized in infrared.

...dreams of apartments and wall-length mirrors.

...friendly faces tracing arabesques in the sky with their dancing.

Consider: "when in doubt, Old Testament hellfire ranting will never lead you astray. Good to keep in mind for the next year."

Soon, we shall be getting back to form. There is no choice. I look forward to it.