it was 2 am. my attorney had preoccupied himself with a simple laptop and the ability to download music. good, the f*cker would no longer be a problem in the depraved world we had entered. empty bottles sat scattered around, waiting for an impending collection that would surely never occur. i myself was at a state which no man could easily recover from. many beers and a few shots of whiskey had penetrated my system. why did i have no f*cking grass? this would have made the experience more ethreal, more existential. like a man trapped in his own being, i would be released by the power invested in a few simple grams of green herb. not one to deny, my own misgivings i most possibly would be grateful to retrieve such a simple request had i not consumed such an amount of whiskey and beer.
it was time to admit that i was completely twisted, however lacking a danger that i so readily wished to seek. how depraved and desperate had i become that i no longer took the simple pleasure of drunkary as a serious offence against my own body. what a man wouldn't give at this point to plunge into the depths of an ether binge.
life is short, and the sheer decadence of the world around me convinced me that this all was the canadian dream. a simple haze of life, mixed in with a couple ounces of your favorite liquor to lead you down the path of sheer lavishness. a life of simple pleasures attained either by means of honesty, or by the even more conveinent ways of trickery and sheer lies.
who would know at this point? most definetely not myself or my attorney. the only solution to our problems was to find el degas. a fictional place, if you will, that we could continue our debauchery and sheer decadence in. would we find it? f*ck no, not today thank you kindly. for it was a tricky devil to pin down, and could only be found by trial and error. more or less, we had to travel the canadian road. see the frontier, and visit what would surely be our watergate.
would we make it out alive? no one knew, and only time would tell.
