
Posted by john fante on 12/25/2001, 11:09 pm jf
i hate spending a couple of days of forced sobriety. the gullet, she insists. fire burns. lining quivers. mouth waters at the thought of paulener, and spaten. eyes cloud, mind wanders, concetration flags, moods ebb. not even crown roast or homemade biscuuits and gravy can appease. black tea refuses to sooth. brian eno rekkids taunt, as do jimmie rodgers'. canned heat whiskey make you sleep all in yer clothes.
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