my god. what will my biographers say?

It was nothing more than a scribbled notation;

an inclination from the borderlines.

It was senseless, weightless, and…

let's see..and what?–– ah, yes! pedantic.

I don’t drink, so-to-speak so I wasn’t drunk.

well, not so's you'd notice.

extreme daylight was beginning to piss me off

the way it does sometimes. well, all the time.

look. none of that is spoken here to be an excuse.

but almost everyone I know is dead, or like me soon to be.

so who's left to council in times of mediocrity?

well,.. that’s not fair. who am I to be granted immunity?

mea culpa. mea culpa. mea maxima culpa.

basta!–– my god. what will my biographers say?

well, nothing good I'll tell you that.