Selected journal entries from my crazy life


12. 12

5:30 am, March 5, Sacramento CA

I have this aching longing lost feeling deep inside me again and I need to move. I don't know how I will go about doing it but I have to keep moving or I get this feeling again. I can never sit still. If I stay in one place to long that loneliness and youthful angst creeps in my hungry soul and I go mad for drugs, and women I'll never see again. If I only could go back to New York and shuffle through the crowds down Fifth Avenue towards the MET. I could spend all afternoon there looking at art than stagger to the rooftop bar for gin and the view. Then I could stroll through central park to the Plaza Hotel and drink whiskey until they threw me out the door for my obscene behavior. Then, a small whole in the wall bar on Broadway, a few more tumblers of whiskey, and out out out into the neon lit zoo that is Time Square for more trouble. When New York got to be to hot and crowded I could go to the Bahamas and lay on a white sand beach all day and drink rum and smoke weed until I died of skin cancer and liver failure. I then could jet to pairs and drink red wine in crowded cafes and write and write and write surrounded with likeminded people who enjoy art cheese and a fine night of drinking debauchery as much as I do. Then off to Barcelona to stroll down las ramblas and hide in wood paneled smokey bars and eat tapas and watch soccer or bullfights (and red wine and gin of course) all morning than take a siesta and wake up around 7 or 8 and repeat. On and on I could go, Belgium for sour beer, Amsterdam for good weed and hookers, Italy for a trip back in time, pasta and more red wine...... And on and on and on and further I would travel to escape this aching longing lost feeling set in stone in the depths of my soul.

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