WHO cares to admit…

my code, and out pops a $20 bill. Next door was a liquor store. I buy a 5th of cheap vodka, whose brand name I forget and trot back to my hotel room with a TV set, to drink. It was ‘Gorgie’ Vodka. God, I just gotta remember that important stuff, you know…

“We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.” WHO cares to admit complete defeat? Practically no one, of course.

I have no idea how long this ‘run’ of celebration lasted, but I do know my bank account was now on ‘insufficient funds’ status. I always wore jewelry, so I crossed the street to the pawn shop and took the cash to buy more liquor. Eventually this came to a screeching halt when I’d pawned all my jewelry. Poor me, Poor Me. Pour me another drink. I wanted more booze! I was evicted from the YMCA for not paying my bill and I’d run out of money, jewelry and booze. Nothing was left. I took my $20 dollar bill from my emergency fund hidden in my shoe, purchased a ticket at the Long Island Railroad, Penn Station, and went home. Back to Freeport. Not once did I contact my job or my father the whole time I was boozing. I was having too much fun.