There aren't enough drugs to make me feel better.


Went out around midnight to put up some signs for the yard sale. Just waiting for someone to challenge me. I felt like Robbie Conal, without the content. I'd worked all day. I was doing my good deed. So, when I saw the liquor store, I felt I had earned a beer. Turns out, I'd earned two. And, as I headed home, I passed a homeless guy drinking from a brown paper bag. He looked up at me and asked, "Are you drunk yet?"

I felt like I'd been hit. I stopped and turned to him. I knew this guy. I had taken his picture on one of my photography walks. No front teeth, and he'd done real time several times. Before I could say anything, he asked for some change. I said, "Only if your name's Billy." My turn.

His eyes went wide and his jaw sagged. "How'd you know my name?" I didn't answer. This was also the same guy who had eyed my camera and then said, "That's a Nik-kon, that's about eight hundred bucks, isn't it?" But tonight, he didn't remember me. He just knew me. I gave him a few quarters and left him to figure things out.

I went home and drank my beer in private. I guess these days I only drink it when I need it. And if that isn't dangerous... sonofabitch.

big picture | sob

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