It is good that I didn't try to quit smoking today. We had no computers all day; had to do everything by hand. When I finished the three gimlets after work, I felt like I was alive,barely, but my eyes were still not open.
I got home, I found my new ibizian friend. We started talking in spanish, italian, a little french, and english quando necessario. I got more cigarettas e vino, e cashews, and I know I'm not sober, but I'm home, safe, and happy. She leaves in nine days.
I had planned to quit tomorrow, but I think I need to set the date back 24 hours. I work at 7pm tomorrow, so I have enough time to get plenty of rest, take care of my errands, get some good exercise, maybe some sun, and still make money before my first day off of the week. Perfecto! I have a healthy day, then I take it home.
I didn't hit a meeting today. I'm not sorry. There was a low-bottom, street-bum, teeth-missing alcoholic who made it back one day before me. George, I think. First he had one day more than me, then two, three. Now it doesn't matter. AA is for souls like his, me has to find his own path.
Me, myself, and I. A long time ago, I wrote about us. I finished work, while me slept, and myself left at one o'clock. Capiche? What is the best language for convoluted poetry?
My new friend is teaching me bad words in italian. If you can say "shut up!", and "fuck you!" in any language, you can make people laugh, and that is how you begin to communicate.
No mas esta noche, no more tonight. Stay bat-tunned to the same bat-channel... something else is for sure going to happen soon.
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