A tall man playing poker with a midget
Posted: May 14th, 2005, 12:42 pm
This is great. Got up and walked to the café and had a good breakfast. They have free internet, but the breakfast, two piece of bacon only, was less than what I was hoping for but still good and it was just under five dollars too.
People are always telling me in the mornings that I have sleep or “white shit” all over my eyes. I just say “yha I know.” I do not wipe my eyes, that would be weak, and I am only weak when I think I might get sex out of it, when my girlfriend tells me of “white shit” I run to the closes bathroom and wash my face. This morning is fine, although my STOP DRINKING experiment is not working.
I sit down after work with a 20 $ bill and look at it, go through the paper because I finally have decided that I have to, some time, go to a poetry reading, and if it is not a bunch of lesbians reading poetry about child birth from artificial insemination then maybe I’d go up and read, but there are not any Poetry Readings going on. Hell, I think I am not going to be able to write anything more than a Page in the university library so there is not point to that. Why not just have one beer, and I end up drinking until the Daily show with Jon Stewart comes on and I watch it ( comes on at Midnight in Canada) which usually means I have two forties of colt forty-five and a bottle of red wine that I steal from the local supermarket. Two Tylenol usually makes things all fine in the morning when I get to work.
But today is a good day. There is a light rain and a cool breeze in Montreal and it is a beautiful city and in a do nothing country that wallows in it own mediocrity and considers it greatness. I am a drunk that sits in his room thinking about how in two weeks or so he might be able to buy a laptop and write a book over the summer, hopefully this-will get done-has to get done-must get done. So be on the look out for a book with the cover a picture of a Tall man playing poker with a midget and drinking a bottle of whiskey.
Geoffrey Alexander Parsons
People are always telling me in the mornings that I have sleep or “white shit” all over my eyes. I just say “yha I know.” I do not wipe my eyes, that would be weak, and I am only weak when I think I might get sex out of it, when my girlfriend tells me of “white shit” I run to the closes bathroom and wash my face. This morning is fine, although my STOP DRINKING experiment is not working.
I sit down after work with a 20 $ bill and look at it, go through the paper because I finally have decided that I have to, some time, go to a poetry reading, and if it is not a bunch of lesbians reading poetry about child birth from artificial insemination then maybe I’d go up and read, but there are not any Poetry Readings going on. Hell, I think I am not going to be able to write anything more than a Page in the university library so there is not point to that. Why not just have one beer, and I end up drinking until the Daily show with Jon Stewart comes on and I watch it ( comes on at Midnight in Canada) which usually means I have two forties of colt forty-five and a bottle of red wine that I steal from the local supermarket. Two Tylenol usually makes things all fine in the morning when I get to work.
But today is a good day. There is a light rain and a cool breeze in Montreal and it is a beautiful city and in a do nothing country that wallows in it own mediocrity and considers it greatness. I am a drunk that sits in his room thinking about how in two weeks or so he might be able to buy a laptop and write a book over the summer, hopefully this-will get done-has to get done-must get done. So be on the look out for a book with the cover a picture of a Tall man playing poker with a midget and drinking a bottle of whiskey.
Geoffrey Alexander Parsons
