memoirs of a drunken degenerate.

i woke up this morning wracked with aches and pains, a body broken by a long night of whiskey chased by beer, a precursor to an evening filled with delusions of grandeur. "you've outdone yourself this time old boy" i think to myself as i fumble for the bottle of ibuprofen i keep on the nightstand. it goes down with a mighty gulp of water that only ends because of the human anatomy's need for air. its light out. i try to shake away the fog from my vision that is an unfortunate side effect of a night like last. no good, i try a thorough rubbing, still not 20/20 but it does the trick. i squint through the single pain glass of my window and see hell. the sky is the color of misery, cold wet merciless misery. without setting shaky unsure foot outside i can see that there is a bitter foul bite to this vile november morning. this has to be an omen, a sign of horrible things to come. ill read through the paper and exclaim "i knew it, the bastards didn't believe me but i knew it." but this is all crazy talk. the ramblings of a man gone half mad coming down from a vicious whiskey high. for now ill put down pen and attempt to sleep it off, hopefully wake up to a safer hue.