mrzarquon

I need to find something else to do.

Brain is stuck in a vaccuum, given up on AIM. Little if any social circle left in PA, trying to find things to do, but having little if any luck.

The old man drinks his booze and smokes his cigar, lamenting on the days never lived and the fantasies never fulfilled. A life of should haves, could bes, and regrets. His breath smells of cirosis, the tremens are apparent in his eyes. Every aspect of him speaks of potential un used, un formed, un developed.