CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

June 3rd. Sunday/ Damn, it's June already? Where did the time go? That's been happening to me alot lately. I'm losing track of time. I mean, Friday, I was in Baltimore hanging w/ a fellow writer... We were kicking around ideas about future projects we have yet to tackle... Haven't even written down one note about anything, yet we plotted a course of ideas that will last for a long time... The creative process is genius unto itself! And now I am back at my desk, tinkering w/ my journal, recording the doings of the last couple of days. Friday I was hopeful. Today I feel hopeless. Why is that? If I had (real) money, I could afford a "shrink" but I wouldn't go. Hell, I'd take that money and invest in a liquor store. My therapy would be a lot cheaper and I would feel the results (effects) of my (drinking) therapy a whole lot quicker than talking to some loony toons doctor at $150.00/hr and coming out feeling more crazy than I felt going in! But, I cannot afford a doctor and, at the very least, frequent a liquor store... So where does that leave me? Slowly I spiral into the abyss of depression. I blurt out sentence fragments at inopportune times, only to have people look at me, thinking I'm talking to myself (which I am!) and silently label me crazy! And during this whole process, time is marching on and I cannot get that seemingly "crazy" moment back when I started mumbling to myself while standing in a line at (hopefully) a liquor store waiting for my liquid medication. (And judging by the stocked shelves, they have the goods for what ails me!) CRAP!