February Journal Entry
By Dave Woehrle
It’s easy not to drink when you’re hung over. It’s the day
after the hangover when the urge bites the brain again. But instead I read and
wait in bed, praying without saying I am. I overate today after a substantial
dinner. No one wants to be logy and lonely but tonight I am both. The bitter
arrival of your blue self, the painting that dissolves like cold rain on
February grass. We live in an odd world. News is entertainment and vice versa.
Jeremy Lin stats and Rick Santorum hates condoms and Bill Maher smirks and we
can’t have four more years of failure and there was a Koran burning on a U.S.
military base, and a man in Georgia went on a killing spree because Dan Brown’s Angels and Demons told him to, so HLN
has experts to discuss Bipolar I and Bipolar II disorder. Which chemical or
social institution is to blame? I know nothing but suspect happiness doesn’t
roar like a river. It trickles like a stream. You have to be quiet to hear it.
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