I packed it deep and it's so fresh I can smell it from here, but there's no wisdom in that bowl tonight - no, I'm wrung dry. Phew! Hang on, let me just stretch it out a minute here . . . Goddamn. I had to work for it today, ya know? You know what I mean? Simply being Dutch Pearce was not going to cut it today; I had to work for it. I had to be better than myself today. I failed. I dropped the ball. I really did. Fuck. Just now admitting that to myself is all. This is a stream of consciousness piece, ya know? So that kind of shit happens. The truth kind of shit. I've been writing these lately. They're fucking tricky, I'll tell you that. Especially for someone whose mind is a beach ridden with landmines that are actually ADHD. See? That's a shitty metaphor. What was I saying earlier about having to be better about myself today? That seemed like it could go somewhere. . . .
It could've been a nightmare, it wasn't. It was great. But I blew it.
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