when the beer curdles

the drunk sets in, sparkling wine my ass...there's no interlude like the closet hands out, reaching towards us with open arms, welcoming, a hiatus that lasts for all of 10 to 15... a little bit rude you say to go to a party and duck out for some short lived pleasure. but to hell with it i say, we are all friends here and what are friends for but to laugh at us in our turn and create sport for us in theirs. the hand of God reaches down and fills me with guilt like a pint overflowing...it's all good, i say, all journalists drink well, we fucking marinate in it and like a good steak we come out raw, we shake it up, we cut it loose like a muthafucka and we lay it low like an expensive whore...come in the water's nice...