september 6

September 6, 2009 - Sunday 

poptarts fuck me. i'm so hungover today i can still taste the alcohol on my breath. brushed my teeth over and over this morning but it just resonates. i have a feeling that if i worked up a sweat, which i have no intention of doing, that beer would slowly ooze out of my skin. i can't remember the last time i drank that much beer. 10 beers in one night. ice cold, yummy good, all american beer and i drank the fuck out of it last night and proceeded to pass out. now i live with the overwhelming feeling of these 36 (almost 37) year old bones. fuck, i'm old. the only cure for me is poptarts. sounds crazy. most people say "hair of the dog" although that is a lovely alternative, not for me. mark always craves greasy hamburgers. some people crave their carbs. not me. poptarts..... it started back in my old place on east harris street in savannah. i would tie one on the night before and when i woke to the stench, i wanted poptarts. not sure why but for some reason those cold poptarts right out of the little shiny metal packaging. any kind will do, really, but my favorite are brown sugar. how i love that sweet, artificial flavoring and the dry outer pastry. on a normal day they taste a bit like something out of my daughters easy bake oven. but on sunday mornings like this, they taste like pure heaven. something you would get at a patiserrie in france, along with a bottle of sparkling water. sit on the patio, look out and sketch something lovely. but this aint france, i tell ya. it's me, hungover, looking worse for wear and eating a fucking poptart in my underwear. this package is strawberry and i savor every last bite. think i have to chase it with some advil today though. back in the day, didn't need that shit but i'm fucking old. artificial goodness in a shiny silver wrapper.....you are my love!