ahead, you pissed on their cornflakes by causing such a ruckus. And all you were doing was looking for the cigarette machine. God drunks are so fucking
insensitive. When you are plied with anaesthetic of any description you think you can say or do anything. But you miss the whole damn show. That much is fact.
So put it down and shake rattle and roll and get on with the real show. The one where you do as you say and say as you do. When you say you are going to be somewhere you arrive on time or politely early, well presented. Shiny shoes. With a smile on, a real smile. Not some chemically fuelled grimace just trying to hold your shit together.
And when you say you’re a writer, you write. You show up at the page every day.