This Is Your Brain...Hungover.

"Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation
and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me." Psalm 51:10-12

“The Master of Life's been good to me. He has given me strength to face past illnesses, and victory in the face of defeat. He has given me life and joy where other saw oblivion. He Has given new purpose to live for, new services to render and old wounds to heal.
Life and love go on, let the music play.” JC

When I raised my head from a muscle relaxer stupor, I blinked my eyes twice at the screen and listened to the murmured chuckles of the amused hipsters getting first breath of the classic Point Break dialogue.

The sun set on the western side of the shiny happy Empire State Building, and I drank another glass of cold NY homegrown Rose. What better place to give tribute to Patrick Swayze, God Bless him, then on a breezy rooftop night.

A missing set of keys this morning has my mind on a fuzzy scavenger hunt across this island. Unfortunately no recall of the cabby's number but a picture of a gaping pocket comes to mind. I'm trying to hold it together and lead by example for my husband that we shouldn't fight about anything other than scandalous infidelity and abuse. What the hell is irresponsibility anyway? Just a neck jerk on a sudden drop.

I wonder if I could afford a therapist in a town where a six pack of Sierra Nevada runs me an hours wage. Just the idea of spreading out on a cool leather sofa and staring at the twisted bamboo on a streakless glass coffee table, asking the pertinent question of "What am I going to do with the rest of life?" has great appeal. I'm adding it to the list.

Spent a $100 on warm Barbera and cardboard with sauce last night with other suckers on The Bowery. I'm giving Keith Mcnally my money 3 more times before I exhaust that New York scene and invest my quarters in bahn mi and Vietnamese noodles. So what if its domesticated meat, at least its cheap.

I eye the Manila envelopes labeled to various casting directors laying on my dusty printer then divert my eyes so I don't dwell on the fact they've been there for two weeks. I ponder composing my brilliant cover letter but decide to hang upside down and chant incessantly...Alcohol is a depressant.

My temporary shrink, Johnny Cash agrees.

But seriously, what am I going to do with the rest of my life?