Not So "Top Shelf?"

Now ya'll know why I haven't been writing lately. Blew that cover in my little ER confessional yesterday. I been boozing and doping and hangin' with thieves and swindlers and mad scientists and junkies and dirty donkey dancin' sluts from across the border. Ha. But here's the rub: it's all research for my next book. So, shoot me. Scratch that. Bad choice of words.

Truth is, those were all the dark moments of an otherwise healthy and happy holiday season. The CAT scan found nothing and the docs pronounced me in tip top health. A caring friend expressed concern over my diet (among other things). I exist almost solely on a diet of fresh veggies (I'm a master salad designer), canned tuna, multi-grain breads, GD apples, Cheerios w/soy milk, pasta, and the occasional pork or steak dinner, beer and red wine. And I can't function w/o my chicory coffee. Sorry. And the occasional recreational narcotic from the giant pharmacy three miles south of here stretching all the way to Belize.

When my mentor died, the press pestered his wife about his abuse of his body. Her keen reply: "Hunter loved his body. He gave it everything it wanted." Hunter Tompson lived as long as I'd care to live. But despite what might come across in my writings, I never followed Hunter in his colossal drug habits. Thompson's drug & alcohol intake defied the laws of physics. By comparison, I am merely a dabbler.

For those of you concerned for me in my current associations with troubled people, remember this: Jesus didn't hang with the rich and well-adjusted. My friend James suffers terribly with manic depression and acts out horrible at times. But he thanks me with tears in his eyes every day for my friendship. James is sadly an idiot savant. He's brilliant, a genius, but he can't function in normal society to save his life. On top of that, he has battled with cancer and is about to go in the ring again His recent inheritence of a VERY large sum of money from his deceased millionaire father has only driven him deeper into self-loathing and mania. Unable to cope with the complexities of high finance, he has left it to lawyers to bury the money in trusts. After a brief spell of reckless spending, he returned to the life of a pauper, but not before buying outright several acres of Bisbee turf. There are three modern dwellings on the land. I live in one. I realize I can't save James, but I brighten his days, and that is something.
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