"Confidence Man"

    Slouched in my seat at the end of the bar, not nodding to sleep, just nodding in a drunken stupor after a three-day binge, I was approached with, “Excuse me, but didn’t you used to be somebody?”
  
   Why did I drink? To forget I used to be somebody.

(Sotto): Vatchi, who is this somebody anyway? A lot of smoke and mirrors and distorted feelings. American idolatry. The ego as God. The Wizard of Oz, false god. Who is this somebody? Who is he, this Jim?

   Drunk beyond the point of recognition and barely recognized . A garden-variety drunk, finding neither fame, nor my true self. Just a me reaching. Just a reaching. Just a shelf. Any bottle on any shelf. Just a battle. Just a battle that I could never win because there was less and less of me left to put up a fight.

 

    Give me another fucking drink above all fucking else. Fuck you.

 

    They called me "Rusty" because I drank Rusty Nails. They called me "Rusty" because that is what I was. I was my drink. And when you are your drink, you are nothing.

 

    Fuck you and give me another drink. Moonshine trumps sunshine.

 

    Drink until I black out. Drink until I pass out. Fuck.

 

from All Drinking Aside (Rough Draft, Day 76)