I lost my drinking privileges a long time ago. They do let me out once in a while to see a patch of sky near a corner of the yard. That being said, I don't miss it. The booze stopped working and it certainly would not have helped with the current incarnation of Alligator Arms and his Traveling Pinheads. Heroin and crack? Nah, they would not blot out the Yankees of the 21st Century's teenaged years. Where do I find solace? Certainly not in football, our great national disgrace. Nor with basketball. The last Knicks game I attended had Bernard King as a starter. Hockey? Not for me. So much for sports. TV? I only watch when I have a girlfriend, so it's been a long, long time. I bike ride and that helps a bit, except when I get near the Bronx and then the memories flood back in. Sometimes, the loud German couple that moved in above me distracts me with their loud stomping on their floor - my ceiling. That's a distraction, but far from pleasurable. No, the only reliable way to escape this long drought, this "between dynasties" valley, has been that which has worked since I was a young lad - military history, especially gulag and Eastern Front literature. Okay, I'm going to pretend it's snowing out in downtown Manhattan.
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