love
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Slowly but surely, I’m slogging through my own book one last time for all the errors. I’m truthfully a little irritated my publisher missed so many. I think he ran it through some software or something. The errors are systematic, and my military discharge date is wrong. In short, there will be a second edition.
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I visited my mother today. At my house. I am not living there. She was drunk. She is often drunk. And I just brought her more. More rum, more cigarettes. I visit at least every Saturday with another load of both. She’s been a smoker since she was a teenager. She’s a broke penniless widow
Documenting my journey through the mental health system 