Ishmael Saved

Noon. Perhaps one liter of Coke is okay here and there. Two liters is too much. I dreamed last night that I’d had a beer and forgot about it until someone pointed it out. I was horrified and my heart sank. The truth is that I don’t want to drink. It’s been easier to abstain since being on Vraylar. I used to be crippled by useless superstitions from the psychosis. They were the kinds of ideas that Polly must entertain, such as putting your dog before yourself. Completely unreasonable. Dogs are only animals, even though they make good friends. I used this false ethic when I was afraid to play my music with Aesop around. I really feared that I was breaking some divine law. Polly was just messed up in the head. And her bibliophobic attitude was very Santa Clara. Ugh. Just leave me alone! What’s rather odd is how I completely ignore Jeff L— as any kind of threat to me. Polly is a different matter; she’s my older sister. I perceive her as the family lawgiver, hence the head honcho. Polly is trying to install L— as her successor to the family throne, but no one is buying it. My brother in particular rejects L— as the next in line. Polly favors her son because he doesn’t drink. He has her blessing to take over the family. As for me, I disapprove of the whole setup and defect. “And I only am left alone to tell thee.” I am blowing the lid off the whole arrangement. No one in the family is permitted to talk about it, so I have forfeited any place among my kin. It’s just as well, because this way I get to live a little longer and better…

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