another lonesome day in the life of a miserable old fool.
and now, even though i desperately suckle the teat of sleep like a fawn yearning for that sweet, delicate nectar of the dreamworld to quench my insufferable consciousness, i find myself utterly shorn.
i, actually, unbelievably, collected leaves. and painted them. and threw them away. along with the dozens of other drawings, paintings, artistic masturbations and meaningless rubbish i fiddled and fretted about with today.
ooh this curse! cursed with the attitude of a child and the patience of a cabby. i'm crude, i'm surly, i'm sober, and my heart hurts.
day one of quitting smoking. ooff.
