It’s tuesday. I want to sit around listening to wilco and whiskeytown, getting drunk-nice, slow, easy. It’d be better to have someone along for the ride, but I’m okay doing it alone.
Since I’m never alone, that leaves me with the g-man. Which is alright I suppose, I like the kid and everything, but all he wants to listen to is grateful dead or something along those lines. snore.
ain’t no one in this town who wants to get country drunk with me.
what can you do when you’re pushing forty and you have no friends. I’m turning into a sad old lady who can’t even drink properly.
- october 9th
- razza frazza