getting to it

im puffing a cigar right now. its late. near morning.

its an a.fuente cigar from the dominican republic.

not too long or thick.

maduro dark. and it tastes good.

two 5-hour energy drinks.

i'm not buzzing, but im ready to write till the sun comes up.

done with the documentary, spare some loose change.

surprised how much time it involved. and very curious to see the final cut after the editors do their thing.

ellroy curled up, sleeping.

miles davis is playing (you ever see his eyes? pupils dilated wide and black).

sonny rollins, too.

they're all dope fiends. or were.

cocaine.

seems like alota artist-types are dopers.

big monkeys on their back.

gotta lock themselves up in a room and detox.

and the drink, too.

so far, so good for me. managed to keep away thus far.

VA prescriptions are winding down. starting to realize i'll be living with pain meds for the rest of my life.

or until the back miraculously heals.

maybe if i say enough 'hail marys.'

but thank God you can't go to the corner store and buy vicodin.

these alcoholics got it bad.

must be so damn tempting. no wonder there's plenty,

of artist-types, and regular Joe's sucking down the junk.

doesn't sit right with me.

so i'll take my meds, smoke my cigar, drink a coke zero, and get to it.