OF ANARCHY AND IRISH CREAM,
AN EXTENDED ST. PATTYS DAY

Friday I spent all day looking for a place to live. Many people have been generous and welcomed me into their homes, but it has been nearly a year since i have had an adress or a bed to call my own. I desperately want my own base of opperations. However, endevoring to find even a cheap rat hole appartment call my own proved frustrating. By dusk I was tired, angry, and wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and be left alone.

But of course it was St Patricks day! No sooner had i arrived at my crash pad for the evening (a friend was letting me sleep at her house, which was suppostedly going to be empty for the weekend) than a stout, hearty, bushy bearded man wearing a battered fedora burst through the front door. He had a large sack of beer and liquor and small, shy, comely lass in tow. In a buisnesslike way he set about celebrating the holiday. He tossed me a brew and ordered in a silly accent "Drink er up, boy!"

On a nortmal day i would have declined, or had just one drink out of courtesy. But I was in just the right frame of mind for some self abuse. "may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows your dead!" I declared. Fifteen minutes later we consumed two foul tasting beers and two or three shots of good whiskey apeace. Then the girl offered me a glass of the irish cream which she had produced from somewhere. Soon we began to dance.

The radio blared cheftains as we hopped about in merry fashion, ryan (the bearded gentleman) and i clumsily and the girl Emily rather more expertly. A short while later one of the residents of the house arrived with some friends in tow. They joined us. We danced and shouted and played euchre and egyptian ratscrew till the early hours. As I lay on the soft carpet drifting off to sleep, two thoughts passed through my head:

1. Drinking makes me sleepy but st. patricks day is still a pretty good holiday
2. It would be easier to sleep if the large, burly, bearded man in the battered fedora would stop shouting my name and trying to wrench my arm off in an effort to get me to play more drinking games.

There is yet more to this story, as we declared teh next day st. Paties day extension. But I will not divulge much about that here. I will say only that saturday included a trip in an ancient van to see some belly dancers, the bohemian rhapsody, and a run in with the police. If you want to know the rest, you will simply have to call me at my new phone number:

435- 313-1591

And of course, if you could not tell, i think i have made some new friends