The ability to write cursive has diminished although the thoughts are still running rampant.  The fire is still burning and the fire for another drink still exists.  The motor skills to handle a pen have diminished drown under a heavy onslaught of alcoholic consumption.  And yet the spirit is still calling out and beckoning the muse.  The spirit is laying propositions for the muse in hopes that the bitch be willing.  Seems both the muse and spirit would connect were another shot of whiskey be had.  No judgments made but it is Saturday night.  Perhaps we need pay heed to the muses and see where the evening ends up.  See if the evening leads to further development.  The whiskey is calling   It’s daring us to make it an evening to  remember—an evening for the ages.



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