I didn't have any nice clothes to wear to an engagement party, or any money to give, or a decent face to show. I went to a comedy club and laughed hard for the first time in a while. I won a t-shirt, a dvd and an autographed michael ian black, and the cast of some tv show that scotty went ape shit for and paid for my dinner/gave me twenty dollars for. Patton Oswalt was hysterical, and the rest of the night I couldn't stop laughing. There wasn't any poetry in this. I broke my 90 meetings in 90 days on day 2, but I don't really care. I ran into this guy Steve from rehab last night-- 50 years old and strung out on suboxines or however they're spelt; withdrawing from painkillers and xannax-- he was glad to see me, I was glad to see him-- he slept most of the meeting. This girl told her story, she started the program when she was around my age, and didn't drink on her 21st birthday. I hope thats me.

The doctor said there's something wrong with my heart, briefly explained it works too hard, and my blood pressure is too low, which might be nothing, or could mean internal bleeding or that my heart is going to fail because of the massive amounts of medication I'm currently taking. But, on nights like tonight, I worry for about a minute and smoke a cigarette until I realize there's always something wrong of some sort, and I decide to fall asleep "serene" and relaxed.

I gave away 100 dollars because I thought I was helping a friend, but my dreams just sort of lie to me some days. I gave away 20 dollars because my failing heart is over worked and sometimes the blood flow mixes with my "gut instincts," which is a feeling I've been trying to battle. I gave away a lot of things, because the medicine I'm on makes me feel like all I'm worth is a Son House album and Billie Holiday- God Bless the Child; not to mention my new found love for the Duke and Beethoven.

I've stopped talking to a lot of people, and I don't think I'm better than them. I think they're far too happy, and too beautiful, in their ugly habits and secret lives and far more hurried along than I could ever scurry to catch up with. So instead its easier to just be left behind, or walk in a different direction. So I'm doing just that. I'll keep the small talk conversations, I just don't feel really too much apart of anyone's life anymore. I work at a deli and I sleep the other 16 hours I'm not working. This isn't to feel sorry for me, this is to understand I'm not some sort of ostentacious arrogant prick. I'm not John Lennon. I'm not Neil Diamond. I'm not Nick Drake. I'm Not Elliott Smith. I'm not better than you. I don't think you're any better than I am.

Its just time for something different, and I've decided, you can't turn back the time, and its become too much of a drag watching the clock lag, so I'm moving forward. Keep in touch all 3 of you who read this, and all 1 of you who follow.. my email is Joe.Pignatiello@hotmail.com

Your Friend,

Joe.