Do you remember what it sounded like the first time you said you'll never drink again? It sounded like lying! My legs itch worse than they have for a long while. Insects meet for brunch at 2am it seems. Everybody here has a distinct snore, each one follows its own distinct pattern. I've had mine recorded before, it sounded familiar. Maybe there is some genetics involved in snoring.
Nights are so calm, meditation must be even more transcendent for the nocturnal. Or maybe less transcendent, since there's less to get past. Regardless, when the tiny wavelettes gently splash against the rocks in the still of the night, you can really start to embrace the loudness of silence. Right eye closing.
-This is what I scribbled into my little electronic journal at 2:30 am, up in cottage country, waiting for a drunken friend to sober up enough to fall asleep without fear of the morning. I had a few drinks myself, and took quite a few hefty pulls from the shesha. Sometimes I wonder how artists like Bob can be so in touch with the source of their art under the influence. I'm not altogether happy with what I wrote above - one or two parts I even slightly changed because I just couldn't stand the way I wrote it originally. I've left it mostly unchanged although to make a point; I'm not overly happy with it. I either have to smoke and drink a lot more or a lot less during my writing quests to unleash the raw power of my literary genius. Time will tell.
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