With an illuminated dart from this serpentine driveway, the evening got less confusing. That isn’t always a good thing. Foolhardy swerving, leaving three new, very different friends to piecemeal the evening back together. Calm, supportive and friendly. Things work out. But now an aftermath to unbury a dear friend. Timing is not always what it seems. Of course, there was a conscious decision to not work out the mental imagery of last night until my fingers trapped a stoccatto rambling across this electronic unlined sheet.

Again, we will find that this ramble… it might turn into something much more. We won’t know for know…. Maybe the tequila I had pondered is real at this time of day. Maybe I am stunned that I consider a cigarette. What odd trappings does this day’s end have for me?

What of the pretension of the tortured author. Does one have to drink? It does seem to loosen thine own fingers so that I don’t feel accountable. Maybe that is where truth comes from. When the owner is to drunkenly ignorant to fight with their own inner voices anymore…

Please do not say that… I say. But it is necessary, and freeing and good. I say. Please.. these things are better left undisclosed. I say. And I say, but they need to hear this. They should think about these things. I say. Do you really think that they wanted to hear all that.

But it hasn’t been said yet, I say.

About Uncle Fishbits

I'm.. just this guy, you know?

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