I was just about to go to bed when a story thats been kind of unfinished and in pieces for years now came into my head and I realized the form it needs to be in (or lack of form really). Its about greed and delusions and Key West and ghost tours and get-rich-schemes and absinthe and hallucinations. It purposefully breaks a few literary and grammar rules and will (whenever I get around to finishing itmaybe in the Fall) be sort of stream of conscioussort of not. It does start with these two sentences:
There was no moon the night we dug up Avery Mortom. And beers were a buck-fifty a bottle.
Im ready to be done with this cold or bug or whatever. Its kept me zonked out for a week. Today, in the car, I sang along to my music, despite my throat not being ready. I sang along until I tasted acid and it felt good, even in the acid burn. I mean, a whole week of not being able to sing, by myself, in my caron top of feeling shitty. Despite the burn, I think my sickness will be gone when I wake up nextsave, perhaps, a little mucus love note from an infection that moved on. Sometimes its healthy to ignore your bodys imagined limitations.
Living healthy can kill ya sometimes
There was no moon the night we dug up Avery Mortom. And beers were a buck-fifty a bottle.
Im ready to be done with this cold or bug or whatever. Its kept me zonked out for a week. Today, in the car, I sang along to my music, despite my throat not being ready. I sang along until I tasted acid and it felt good, even in the acid burn. I mean, a whole week of not being able to sing, by myself, in my caron top of feeling shitty. Despite the burn, I think my sickness will be gone when I wake up nextsave, perhaps, a little mucus love note from an infection that moved on. Sometimes its healthy to ignore your bodys imagined limitations.
Living healthy can kill ya sometimes