What does a non-drinker (or a recovering drunk in this case) do on National Drunken Writing Night 2004? Dig deep in the memory, conjure up some post-traumatic, bar stool on the floor, head in the lap of a stranger stories, slurred speech and all, and pass it off as the work of someone two-fisting a fifth of firewater? Or because I'm a little sick, should I just grab some NyQuil and wait for the moment just before sleep, when the NyQuil shot is working its magic, that thirty or thirty-two seconds that I might actually feel a bit tossy, and write something about Influenza and her trampy sister Strep?
I think for now I'll just grab a cup of coffee and wait as Ed and Gwenda drift toward pink elephants and pleasurable jejunity (no offense).
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