I had lots to drink tonight. Lots could mean an entire bottle or just 1 wine glass. In this case, it was 3. I spilled some... and do remember not filling them up to the rim... Perhaps it's more appropriate to say that tonight was one goblet the size of my fist that got me drunk. Forgive my rambling on. I've been startled out of a deep slumber. Socks still on (oooh, I hate that). My friend drank along with me. My dear friend, who was kind enough to listen to a story about a fear of mine the size of my fist. In fear-speak, that's just too f*cking big. We shared ideas about having fear. Understanding what is. I dare say, even accepting its existence in our respective worlds. In my drunken haze, I told about an incident with the patriarch in my family and opened a wound. But, I also told him how this experience lead to the healing of another. Our conversation then jumped into the aging process, confidence versus not caring, who affects us, what doesn't matter, where art falls into the love equation... ah yes, and then we decided that "love is not something you find, it's something you build." In this instance, just now, I realized what startled me.
We ended our night with Indian food and a rather goofy conversation about years from now when we are too old to drink up and hopefully still building.
Sleepy now... zzz
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