Monday, December 25, 2023

Hard Labor Xmas


In 2018 I had been working hard labor for two months.

Like an inmate cracking rocks.

Every night I returned to the small house of the Greenwich estate and downed three aspirins with a little vodka. My body was as weak as Superman encased in a igloo of kryptonite and I wished I could spent the day in bed, except I have a horde to feed and I wake in the morning telling myself, "This doesn't look anything like Christmas."

Tomorrow I return to New York.

A holiday party.

Dance and drink alone in the cold New England night.

I'll be better tomorrow.

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