Five days. It has been five days since I've wrote anything down.It's typical that inspiration comes when I'm furthest from the pen: driving, working, high, drunk. I'm drowning in excuses when all I need to do is attach my lazy *** to the chair and keyboard. I still haven't fixed my typewriter.
I prefer the company of girls because I've always felt distant from my father. Funnily enough - people compare us all the time. Even I can see it now, as I am writing this. I don't want to fault him. He worked hard to make my life relatively easy. But the disconnect is there.
These colt 45 cans aren't treating me very well. Neither is my empty stomach. Who cares? not me. Apathy is the plague of the millennial generation. And I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by sanity. Props to Ginsberg for that line.
The night is early and I have work at nine.
I'm going to keep on drinking this awful beer and see what happens.