Paulie’s Diary, Stories for Late Morning, Late Afternoon, or Late Night

Diary entry: I was in my office assessing the realities of my professional situation and I must say, after considerable amounts of thought and meditation, I’ve concluded my prospects aren’t very good, so I laid back with a good pipe and a large vodka martini, I like to say martini because it sounds better than slugs out of a bottle, but I knew I needed a more basic form of meditation, the old fashioned kind, you know, kill the pain and anything else that gets in the way, so, as the office became dim with the vodka and the smoke, my mind seemed to open up, I became tuned to a different frequency, a clearer, more perfect dimension, in the smoke I could see an image, I saw my old friend Lysander, Lysander was a kid from way down the block, I had once tried to drown him in the crick that ran through the neighborhood, I don’t remember why, but I took pity on him and I guess he was appreciative of the fact that I didn’t kill him, so we became somewhat like friends, I haven’t seen Lysander in years, except for seeing him in the smoke, and then the ceiling began to descend on me like a giant hydraulic press, I began to feel small all over, like a compressed version of the real me, my breath was weak, I was weak, my professional possibilities are weak, I fell into kind of a sleep, a haze sleep, hazy but very real, if haze sleep is a real thing then that’s what it was, that’s where I was, I should return to school, no, my education was the reason I was in this mess, I had been taught worthless things that had brought me to this worthless condition, I needed a new pipe and a new vodka, I was determined to figure this thing out if it took all night, I began meditating again, then Goober my cat started scratching his anus on the leg of the settee, he needs his anal medication reapplied, that damn cat is worthless, if any of the mice around here had anal infections, at least I’d know the stupid cat was good for something… Diary entry: “Get out of my yard you goddamned little whippersnappers you, I’ll cut your fuckin’ ears off”, yeah, I remember the guy who lived next door, Bud, he worked at the brewery, we could never tell if he was drunk or not, he was like a funnel cloud, when he came at you, you couldn’t tell whether he was rotating clockwise or counter clockwise, you just knew he was turning and you ran away from him at a ninety degree angle…

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