(here’s some truths for fans of sech thangs)

Lord, I know I am shameful to thee,

and anyway, I am tired of being good.

I drink wine from a thirty-three dollar

glass, and speak twenty-seven cent words.

I wish I was enough on all counts.

But you know all about that.

Whatever: Almighty or not.

UPdate: I had waaay too much wine. I have heartburn. Funny how heartburn isn’t even an issue when you are twenty. Then again, neither are mortgages. Or a guy showing up from your past to interrupt your happy marital idyll. Hot damn, I love thirty-five. My calves are fucking hot, even if I have to spend twice as long in the gym for them as I used to. Pie=evil. (bastard pie)

Can you tell I’m drunk?? If so, what exactly gave me away?