Flat

Do not seem to feel that impending doom, my equalibrium spinning out of control, wait, there it goes as if I'm am flipping head over heel as I sit here and write this in my chair.No amount of distraction can keep me from the task of writing, even being sleep deprived does not slow me down, maybe only a lack of desire to think about, digest, and interpet my environment, call it being lazy or sometimes there being an empty space where I almost feel content with life, not in the usual way of "Oh, look there, he's a bit better isn't he, nearly social, about ready for test trails with the public, but let's be weary, all those civil suits and political favors to keep this one out of trouble. A right handful is this one." On my best days, truer words could not be spoken, tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day an ocassion for nearly everyone to binge on alcohol without fear of reprecussions outside of the random gun play or shuttle service down the local police precinct.

In my latest mission to lay low from such potential disaster, there does not look to be much hope on skirting around the first real boozefest of the year, not counting Valentine's Day for those broken hearts who need chemicals and alcohol to mend their fragile souls. No St. Patrick's Day is the first real nice weather in Vegas outdoor opportunity to usher a whole calender of debauchery on par with seasonal Roman outings. I'm looking at all this in the face, wondering what my future holds for me, how many more of these rotations in the party club do I have left or really even desire, is it even possible for me to stand around a bunch overt amatuer drunks without breaking down in order to show them how real professionals get down, I mean, how does one become a professional party machine, is corporate sponsorship necessary? Certainly does not hurt, look at the most famous rock and rollers, dead or alive, someone paying the bills, never got in the way moralistically with ingesting enough cocaine and heroin to support the economies of many third world countries, so as I rot my liver a bit further, after making the futile effort of getting some sleep, eating some vitamins, and working out, I can put on some green, head down to party HQ and if nothing else do some recon on the nature of the holiday ritual, where suits suck it up the next day, head down on desk, hidden by some anonymous cubicle or they sleep right through their alarm, maybe call in sick, anyway this is all after effect, the moment is what shall be worth investigation, nothing else and tomorrow I will make every attempt to do so, later.