Oct 23rd, Hangover Breakfast Place

So much for my attempt at being a vegetarian.

Last time I was here I didn't have any bacon, but this morning I need the comfort. It's not the first time I've cheated and it won't be the last.

Yesterday's indiscretions don't seem so bad.

I mean, I warned her. I put all my crazy on the table, a straight-flush of insanity and melodrama, and it only made her more persistent.

I don't know how vegetarians can manage it, with sinful temptation everywhere they turn.

Sept 3rd

He spun aimlessly up the curving boulevard. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but knew he'd recognize it when he saw it. He did. Shading an area larger than his new apartment, its branches weaving their way to a hundred possibilities, sat a gnarled oak.
He'd never been in this park before; he’d never been in this city. And still he pointed his bars towards an old friend and nestled against its trunk. The folds of the rough bark jabbed his ribs, but he didn’t mind.

He started to write. He wrote about nothing in particular, simply watched as the ink bleed into the crisp paper. He smiled. The evening breeze rustled his hair as he peered up into the tangle of branches. His smile widened at the thought of introducing this old friend to the many new ones he’d strive to make over the coming year.
A few hundred words ticked passed. Finally, with the oak prodding him into motion, he scribbled a few final sentences and stood, leaving the last line unwritten, to be finished later…