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I celebrated my 4th year of sobriety tonight, and your birthday is right around the corner. This makes Goosebumps. I had planned more, but this rare urgency is all Charlie P. has today. Good stuff is coming soon How silly I am, so indecisive, so full of shit. What a revelation. (My ass)! I put away my fantasies. I’m broke and broken. I live in poverty. My window AC unit works only when it wishes, sometimes works when hit it solidly with a hammer. It’s ok because I liketo hit shit and I can’t pay the utility bill no damn how. My last wife suckered the hell out of me, like, the farm. My brother and sister are rich. I deserve nothing. Absolutely. I suspect she had fed me tiny doses of arsenic here and there which led to this cerebral accident in 1992. She often told me drunkenly that she prayed for my death. She was straight from Hell Express. But here’s a clincher: I was using her insanity to kill myself. But Donna stepped in. I could have married her, but we were a good family, two boys and a girl, and, of course, old drunk ass Charlie. I don’t regret this life, but I do wish I’d been a successful author, from the very beginning. I would have been disappointed to have become an attorney, or auto mechanic or farmer. I would have loved being what I wished and successful doing it. I’m glad to be back home for my later years, but to have lived in Atlanta, NY or New Orleans, in that order, would have been heaven. I never met anyone I cared for like you. I don’t know how that works, but Bunki was a drag. Pretty, but a full-fledged drag. Robin believes I will “return” to Bunki one day, but I’d rather mud wrestle goats all winter. yThe woman is superstupid. As for as Robin, I’ve stipulated that she be responsible for my reincarnation; otherwise my meager savings go to the cancer foundation. Everyday I need exercize, eat only when hungry. I whimper at the thought. I need to thank God in the morning, and again every night. I do not need to ever be wheppy.

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