Acid indigestion wakes me again with the correlated burn of regret of yet another day’s drinking behind me. It is a cycle of infinite climbing and falling down. Words of family, friends, Doctors bounce around my head like ping pong balls, is it able tennis or ping pong I never am sure. Anyway. Lots of balls. Just the holes they need to eventually rattle and settle into are too small. So as Sia tells it in Chandelier, it’s
1-2-3, 1-2-3 drink
4am awake again. I really need and want to get off this. For now. milk… and let’s listen to the owl for a bit.