Now I know why Hemingway drank so much. Writing ain't easy. Bourbon makes it go down smoother. Not that I mind this too much. It's kinda nice, pretending I'll live to see sixty, make it to retirement, tell my kids these bedtime stories. Well, not bedtime. I tell them at bedtime, they ain't sleeping.
I ain't an alky. I'm a personal investigator. Just so happens one of the unwritten PI rules is that you need to drink to sleep through the night. It's funny, money problems keep me up, so I drink to pass out. More I drink, more I need to drink to pass out. More I drink, more I buy, and the worse my money problems get. Worse my money problems get, worse my sleep gets. It's one of them oar rowboaters [Trace and I were discussing the symbolism of the ouroboros. He liked the possibility of rebirth, believing that in his next life, if reincarnated, he would have accumulated enough karma to merit something better. “Maybe a garbageman or a teacher” is how he put it. -Dara].
Alcohol's only a problem when it interferes with your life. Hell, it makes my job possible. Some guys get information by going out and beating up everyone that knows more than them. Some people toss money around like confetti, watch where it lands. You usually read about them in the obits. Some dames shake their hips all around town. Me, I go to bars and listen. People don't talk until they're comfortable. Truth is, people love to talk. They want to tell you their secrets. You just gotta convince them to trust you, and no one trusts a guy in a bar, doesn't drink.
Sure, I track other leads. Can't spend your whole life in a bar. Sometimes, leads come outta left field, you gotta chase them down. A lot of the time, you find out stuff sharing a cold one. The other good thing about liquor, makes you strong, makes you harder to poison. And I gotta lot of enemies. Some of em might be crazy enough to try to poison me.
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