A way to experience.

I like saw

I like fell over the

I like went to

I like did know

I like drove over to

I like couldn’t figure out

I like lost my

I drank more. The “lowlife”, a Miller Highlife and a shot of whiskey. I gave Dave my card.

“Get me two”

I already found out what 7 glasses of wine and a half hour of a cluster of dyeing old white people trying to look at art felt like.

Lowlife. That felt about right.

Fist shot burns, lowest quality whiskey. Chug the Highlife, must be living it now.

“Here, take this raffle ticket to the desk.” Dave talked close to my ear

“Why” It mumbled out

“To get your pizza”

I’m confused. I take a sip of beer and get up. Its dark, dingy, hard to see could’ve been the bar’s atmosphere. I know it was my drunkenness that made me fall off the stool. I got up dumbly laughed with the people laughing at me then trudged over to the hutch to get my pizza.  

It was in front of me at the booth, red and white nothing fancy. Oily, absorbent, recitative. I took the last shot.

It radiated through my spine. The fire revolted back up and bile hit my throat. I shuttered and swallowed. I kept it down with another beer.

It was backwards Dave flipped it around. We sat at the back of the bus but I only caught a glimpse till it was gone. Jacket bright orange, grey surrounds and seats, people were few and sat towards the front. It was dark out the windows were black and I was unable to think. It drudged and jerked. I hit the back of the seat and looked down. My hands melt into a blue glow and began to move slightly. I began to panic.

White, soft, and I may puke. Push back into the black hole. “Fuck” I got up and pissed. The sun was out.






Painting Glenn Goldberg