Some days my soul is just quiet, like a dampened drum, with diminished volume and lack of resonance. I don’t know when these days are coming, and when they are here I haven’t found any way to shake the haze that floats in overnight like fog blanketing a valley. Not explicitly peaceful, just muted.

I’ve always thought that people get really drunk because it makes life easier, simpler for a little while.  When plastered, concerns are fairly straightforward: don’t fall down, don’t pee on your shoes, don’t let the puke get in your hair.

Somehow, this evokes that.  I don’t mind.