THE NIGHT I WENT OVER TO THE GREAT ARTIST'S HOUSE WITH THE OTHER GREAT ARTIST TO WATCH THE REPUBLICAN DEBATES

Well, what happened was, I went over to the great artist's house to watch the Republican debates. I went over there with the other great artist. There was a ton of people there which I didn't expect. You should've seen this place! He truly is a great artist. His art is brutal and impeccable, it faces death and futility head on just like I like, and he has built the most beautiful life and home around it with a calm confidence I know I will never achieve. My favorite piece was this headless little pig on its side by the door. You couldn't figure out which end was what. I laughed out loud when I saw it. I hadn't had much to drink. I ate a little. Then we watched the debates which were hilarious. But then I felt myself getting sick. I tried hard to keep it down, to ignore it. Beads of sweat kept running down my face and back. Finally, I slipped out and walked down the hill and climbed the tall fence guarding the unfinished bridge and I carefully walked across the roaring creek along a steel beam, hoping not to slip and fall and die, bleeding upon the rocks. I made it and began my long walk home through the darkness from the edge of town. I fought it off for a little while but then I surrendered. The puke shot out of me, splattering at my feet. I started walking again, but it kept coming. I puked maybe a dozen or so times. I think what had happened was that I realized nothing would ever save me from my self. The great artist possessed nothing useful for my debilitating condition. His art, his life, as amazing as it was, would be completely wasted on me. It was a terrible truth to swallow, to keep down. What the fuck have I done? I've turned my back on everything to follow this ghost, this hunch. I've put my kid's well being at risk. And now I knew even if I were to accomplish the things I wanted to accomplish, it would do me no good. There was no cure to be had. I would still wake up every morning just as I have now, frightened, weak, dumbfounded, exhausted, plagued with a brain so sickened with sadness that I doubt even the rats nor the worms would dare take a bite. GO BERNIE!