Damn, I like this. The words flow easily. I like this far too much. I'm not afraid of sounding stupid when I employ a word. Perhaps later, I'll look back on this and weep at my foolishness. But right now, I feel free, like I've been far too prudent with the language.

...

She often tells me that she invites tragedy, as sick as it sounds, because it forges her into a stronger person, it reveal to her characteristics of which she was unaware. Is it wrong to say that it makes sense to me? It is often through tragedy and not through triumph, that I discover myself. But maybe that's because life is more about failure. But not just failure, the ability to accept failure and to continue unafraid of future failure.

I told her that I have "a fear of finity." A fear that all possibilities have been exhausted, that there really only is so much out there, especially so much for me and that I've had it already. But, she consoles me, at least the coffee at Denny's is, theoretically, unlimited refills.

...

Enough of my crappy drunken writing, here's some crappy, hastily executed drunken drawing.