A Problem of Habit

I drank too much last night and now there are too many empty bottles and pizza underfoot and more holes in the stained walls and the empty space is too loud. My liver hates me almost as much as I do for getting pissed again on cheap whisky – the sort that makes her leave …

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Finding the Rhythm Again

So far this week has been slow. Between nursing my hangover from the weekend and running errands, I’ve not managed to get much writing done. I was hoping to jump back in with both feet, like drop kicking a smug-faced traffic warden. But love, life, and a distinct lack of laughter have all prevented that. …

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