Alprazolam
Clonazepam
Diazepam
Lorazepam
At closing time we patched our wounds, finished our drinks and headed into the summer night.
Things you thought were important turned out not to be important.
Things you thought were not important turned out to be important.
This found bit of scrap metal is better than this tossed-off sketch, which is better than this elaborate story.
On our last Thanksgiving together my Grandfather Ezra, in his plain dark woolen coat, raised his hand and sanctimoniously asked my father to say grace. After an uncomfortably long silence I opened my eyes to see my parents tightly gripping each other’s hands as tears streamed down Dad’s face.
By Christmas Dad had retreated to the darkened guest room. I didn’t see him for eighteen months. When he finally emerged, he was bearded and gaunt, but seemed at peace. Or defeated. He was 48 years old, and looked 70. My mother had taken a job in a doctor’s office by then. After I went off to college they moved into a small apartment.
While most of the time you cling to life with fierce gratitude, more often than you’d like to admit you just want to give up and drink yourself to death.
Please, Lord, don’t make me have to be interesting today.
Not try anything. I think I’d be much happier that way.
If you could attain the ideal vibrational state… I’m thinking of that ice you get toward the end of winter. Little piles left over from the piles that melted. Inert little piles that just hang around.
In this state, ideally, one could absorb any number of blows to the face.
I love shit like that.
In the coming year, I think maybe something could happen for me. Something not bad. But only if I don’t want it too much.
It would have to come unbidden.
The evenings are black and the mornings cold and grey. The only way forward is through it.
Over the years, when I asked about other people’s work, he inevitably answered not so good. On a few rare occasions he said not so bad. I never dared ask about mine. I knew the answer.
A man. A plan.
Diazepam.
