Wednesday, March 17, 2010

St. Paddy's

On the way to the supermarket, passed by a well-known Irish-style pub; it was roaring in there, not long after the lunch hour. People staggered out, red-faced and loud. Just thinking of the alcohol coursing through their bodies gave me a headache. And these were people plenty old enough to know better. Drinking "holidays" seem more moronic every year. They'll be wearing darts in their heads come sundown.
The day transformed from depressingly drizzly to clear, cold, with glorious sunset.
Am really liking the Tennessee Williams short stories. The first batch are ones never before published, and written in his twenties; it'll be interesting to see how he developed, until he poisoned himself via substance abuse.


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