Sobriety City

Is a lonely place where I never interact with anyone except in the work field where those around me only hint and joke about getting fucked up on the job. At the end of the day it is back to solitary confinement, not the kind to escape getting ass raped by the lifer convicts but to escape the legion of lunatics who want to buy drugs from me, then offer those drugs to me while staying up for days at a time talking about how their life is in a constant state of disarray, yeah, well, of course, you have an extreme set of habits and no deisre to get out from under them. Las Vegas does not help, at any hour I can find a barstool to call my own with no pressure to ever rise up from it during the hours of 12am to 9am and there have been more days than I have toes and fingers to count in this past year, can't entirely blame the World Cup and the time difference between Las Vegas and England, many of the nights freewill took over an overwhelming need to spend the entire night wasted on a variety of substances, some legal, others not, the goal had never been too clear, no females around, no real comraderie, just a strong current toward self annihilation, near heart attacks, and week long hangovers meshed together with insomnia. Those days have ended for the moment as I sit in this comfortable cell, just like country club living as long as the drugs, dependency, and idle moments don't make the sirens call. So far so good, work camp has me distract for the time being, but there are days off inbetween where sitting at a barstool feels like the right thing to do, then calling up a few friends from the super fun time brigade, only to start the cycle over once more, a cycle that feels like will never be broken, some applaude my endeavors concerning this kind of activity and this only exists because they are behind iron bars trapped in their personal middle class hell. It is all hell, if you let it effect you, but for now the effect has subsided, how long it lasts is up to me.