Feeling pretty good though, although existential dread, morphine, and a hospital roommate with cerebral palsy who constantly whips out his oxygen trying to kill himself is not necessarily the best thing for anybody, anytime. Especially when you haven't had a cigarrette in five days.
Speaking of which, I'm either cutting myself off completely, or quitting outright. Haven't decided yet. Won't quit entirely - just, need to go down to less than five a week.
I had some freakish morphine dreams about neon octopi who ravaged Minnesota, Chtorr-style - gotta write about that one some more.
It's good to be a citizen again.
Ours is not to make reply,
Ours is not to question why -
Ours is but to do, and die.