The turmoil has settled, that once gripped his heart, that caused indigestion and many foul farts. Instead deep within him there burns a new flame that as of now has not been given a name – its heat is yet small, its existence unsure, through due patient sacrifice it gains tenure. Huzzah for this restart that comes on the heels of a whirlwind bender, of sauced hell-on-wheels; it is sorely needed to stop the practice of four nights a week getting horribly pissed. For such celebrations there are time and place, for sucking whole gallons of booze through the face, for waking up not knowing how one got home, for lapping up mountains of gold—studded foam. There is a strange science to just saying no – refusing to comply or go with the flow – but all one must do is remember the flame that after these months is now burning again.
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
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