Twenty Years Of Self Destruction

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Sober Duck
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Joined: September 11th, 2004, 6:48 pm
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Twenty Years Of Self Destruction

Post by Sober Duck » March 19th, 2005, 11:30 pm

Twenty Years Of Self Destruction
By
Richard Moylan
Xsoberduckx@aol.com

As I lay in the sand and in my own feces I could not help but realize things aren't going to get any better. I reminiscence of how I use to be, the life of every party, oh the parties. How I went from a bashful young man to a boisterous overbearing loud obnoxious drunk in just a few years, hell over night it seemed. I tried to stand only to fall again and again. I tried to crawl but coordination eluded me and the pain from the glass imbedded in my knees was unbearable. I finally made it to a rotten tree trunk and managed to pull myself up into a sitting position. As I looked around I noticed that the rotten tree trunk appeared to be in better shape than me, it definitely smelled better. I asked myself, "what the hell happened?"
I remembered ordering my first drink, a whiskey and water I think it was and from there it didn't take long to get to where I am now. At first I drank with resolve, slowly building up a tolerance thinking this is great. False courage filled all my voids and allowed me to venture where I would never go before. My tongue silvered and my nerve grew long. Don Juan became one of my newly acquired personalities allowing me to sweet talk the opposite sex which didn't go over well with my ex-wife. I enjoyed many a woman until the tell-tail signs of my addiction became apparent. Rotting teeth and facial scars from knife fights began to chase off any chances of romance. My pores reeked of stale booze enhanced by body odor. Been a while since I touched the opposite sex, but that doesn't matter for I have a new companion, John Barleycorn. John and I seem to fight a lot though, I think that's how I ended up against this old trunk. Yep, I'm sure of it, John put me here.

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gypsyjoker
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Post by gypsyjoker » July 13th, 2005, 8:06 am

I been making a lot of imaginary posts to this one Mr Duck. I like the guide lines for this post, your original words only, ok mamma don't allow no qoutes: ok
mother mother ocean
in your belly you hold the treasure.

if I had to give this a paralell "thing" it would not be whiskey, whiskey has been kind to me. I don't know if that is insensitive of me to say that. Living around morrow bay with a friend, he was a jesus freak, very kind to me, took me wanted me to be his couch person. He had a little plaque on his wall said something like "if you are doing something (offensive or harmful to a brother, then stop or give it up) not that good a christian I suppose, like the way Hillel said it "do not do to thy neighbor what is harmful to you"

I would have to call my testimony if this was a twelve step kind of program (I am just making this up as I go, edit for typo's later) I twould tittle mine twenty five years lechourous celibacy, and twenty five years of a frozen heart) down on my knees praying for sleep, adams morgan neighborhood in washing dc. Only women bleed is only rock and roll. Red blood on white panties, man she rocked my head with that line, there I was with blood stains on my underwear and couldn't sleep, I suspect all voices, all auditory halucinations from the seventies except this one by George Fox "I know there was One who could speak to my condition...." just dots, we all connect them in curious brains, mine goes that way, almost a tribal tradition. the power of myth, the power of words.

The power language. I thought you wrote a "crisp" piece here. Well wrote. Made me want to write something in my own words for a change.
thanks
scanner hardware still coming, picture of me on the sharpie unfound.
other than that everything is just peachy.

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