15 February 2016
Whispers In My House
For some time I could never decide if I preferred liquor or dope. I drank a lot of liquor and I smoked a lot of weed. It was a long period of indecision. It took perhaps 30 years before I laid my doper past into a casket, buried him and went for a drink.
People I know still pass their smoke to me, still cannot believe I lost my enthusiasm for weed. Fucking hippies. Keep that shit away from me.
Liquor may kill me sooner than weed ever would but how fucking long do you want to live anyway? Liquor, I have found over the years, has its uses. One of those uses is grieving. Smoking weed is fucking useless for that.
I have yet to have those drinks with the Hammer's ghost. I would be a blubbering idiot in no time flat. Some time soon, I hope this week, I will do so. Say good-bye with a bottle of Arrans I will liberate from its cork and begin moving along, begin doing so with diminishing tears in my eyes.
I have been going through our old pictures where the Hammer is featured often, with Sonja and I, and other people too. Fun pictures because having a big energetic dog makes sure you have lots of that.
I hope the Hammer's ghost sticks around though. Her whispers in my house make it beautiful at night.