Full Blue Moon Dementia

The mini-half fridge in my apartment has two kinds of water staring me in the face, bubbly and flat and only the wilted cilantro wedged between the hand-pressed organic mustard seed mustard and the very un-organic high in cholesterol Best Foods brand mayo in its squeezable tube resemble anything edible. The cantaloupe has been there...
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    Ah, that comfortable tinkling sound as the ice cubes flow to one side of the coffee mug and who’d a thought that the Scotch Whiskey of years past would be replaced with the Ther-a-flu of today? No longer “medicating one’s self” in the language of addiction, but actually medicating one’s self in a...
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    It’s just 10:53 pm and my neighbors are already jumping around like the drug crazed infidels that they truly are—though at the moment a little bit more than usual, and no doubt dancing that forbidden dance of the Voodoo while ritual-sacrificing some warm blooded beast to last night’s full moon. I can already...
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Long lost was the cap to the toothpaste, down the spiral of the drain and lodged against the honed steel fang of the garbage disposal. Demise awaits, nibbling the tips-o-me-fingers as I crammed the straining stubbies into its orifice, the rubber apron lips a minute obstacle to an impending view of destruction. Contemplating suicide the...
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