…a night owl was because I was poor as can be and didn’t have a home to go to so in order not to have to sleep in the rain/snow/heat/cold until the very last minute, I’d hang around in the bars until closing, one two o’clock, and if you hung around in Carrie Nation’s, The Green Door, Murphy’s, The Golden Nugget and The Silver Dollar also, as long as I did, well, you had to drink, a lot too, you couldn’t just stand around in the warmth of the dingy dives so you had to drink and to do so you had to be cagey to cadge that draught and that shot of rye, and you had to have your derelict lines down pat, ad lib too, with great emotion sometimes when instead you’d (I’d) rather have had a nice warm bed somewhere and a louse-free home, but…indiscriminate Fate making a beggar out of Golden Boy is an old story, and today, domiciled in this very house for the last 13 years in a row, why, it’s no sooner dark and I am in bed with a book, haven’t been in a bar twice in two years I bet and not drunk at all, although I will have a beer with dinner irregularly, but not a dozen of 'em...
…even tho I must say sometimes the mighty urge is there and I’m barely able to restrain myself from leaping up and blasting out of this sublime scene and go racing west to the nearest saloon, there to put on a serious package, but so far so good...early to bed, early to rise it is for me...pull that blanket up, adjust the reading lamp, ease down into the pillows…I had enuff of the crazy life in my other life to last me two lifetimes…
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