It just seems like there's no one to talk to sometimes, doesn't it? A room full of people who I don't know how to say hi to... But that's not exactly true either. I do know how to say hi to them. Hell, I could probably sell half of them a used car or refrigerator, and get the other half to part with their cars or refrigerators for half price by the end of the night. Definitely end up with some young woman willing to part with her good name for a romp in a club down in the French Quarter. But here I am instead. Sitting on the edges of the room, certain that any moment the whole crowd will discover that I'm completely full of shit. In fact, I'm not a confident, happy, easy-smile winner who is just fine with completely supporting his now-disabled wife while the government refuses to give her disability benefits. In fact, I'm losing the fuzzy edges of reality in the day-to-day, and drinking and gambling myself into oblivion because I just can't live like this - I just can't live like this - anymore. Damn.