Another night with nothing to do.

Last night was again an alchohol fueled depressed sleep. However, given the fact that I had recurring dreams about my ex-wife, i'm curiously enlightened today to the shortcommings of my life. I've learned to accept what is inevitably going to push me down six flights of stairs. I just hope I retain that verve as long as humanly possible.

I'd like to follow this up with a poem by Charles Bukowski. I believe it is the most elevated piece of literature i've ever read:






mind and heart

unaccountably we are alone
forever alone
and it was meant to be
that way,
it was never meant
to be any other way-
and when the death struggle
begins
the last thing I wish to see
is
a ring of human faces
hovering over me-
better just my old friends,
the walls of my self,
let only them be there.

I have been alone but seldom
lonely.
I have satisfied my thirst
at the well
of my self
and that wine was good
the best I ever had,
and tonight
sitting
staring into the dark
I now finally understnad
the dark and the
light and everything
in between.

peace of mind and heart
arrives
when we accept what
is:
having been
born into this
strange life
we must accept
the wasted gamble of our
days
and take some satisfaction in
the pleasure of
leaving it all
behind.

cry not for me.

grieve not for me.

read
what I've written
then
forget it
all.

drink from the well
of your self
and begin
again.

-C. Bukowski, come on in!, 1993-



hell, i'll drink to that.