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April 11, 2004
Drunken stumbles for three miles at five in the morning. Part of the trek was concentration, a portion was spent on smoke breaks and urination cannot be escaped after hours and hours of continual excess. I don't exercise. I just try not to drink and drive. Why? I've had two close calls in the last month. My time is up. Just because I am trying to kill myself with booze doesn't mean I have to wreck the car. Every night out becomes some kind of run-in. Nothing can stop this madness. There is but one wrong fork in the road.