10%

"i've been home.  i've cut down drinking a lot."

"i think u've only cut down 10%"

after cooking and cleaning up, i make my way back over to the couch sit in my station, hunch over at the laptop on the coffee table and field a slue of international calls...and after overnight emails are addressed, and conference calls become ambient noise in the headphones, and when my dad's not looking, i scurry to the kitchen with my solo cup.  fill it up with ice, then with vodka, then squeeze a few limes in the cup and then lug the bottle of Pellegrino back to the couch splashing my drink only as an act of show.  and as the vodka kicks in and the work calls hang up, the social calls come in.   

a call came in from london - "the both of us appreciate your advice on the moving average."

then there's the calls from pHj...that last until i basically knock out from being drunk alone.

then there's calls from asia...updates on divorces...and i miss you's....and drama...

my conversational ability isn't a reflection on wisdom, but just a shoulder to vent to.  if u want sympathy.  u've come to the wrong place.  if u want perspective, i can talk forever.  if u want solace in drinks....welcome.  

"ur reckless isn't that reckless"

11:48:58 AM

"....bc your normal is pretty reckless"