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The Faces And The Voices And The Rest Of It I wake up and call in sick to work because some days the faces and the voices and the rest of it are just a bit too much to face and time is needed just to stare at walls or get righteously drunk or do nothing at all which seems to be a dying art in a dying world it is a Sunday afternoon and I walk along Geary Boulevard until I find a bar that has no name just a doorway to a darkened little room an escape hatch from the day I duck in there and the bartender is kind I order a beer and she gives me that and a shot of something on the house I look up at the television screen and see the city of New Orleans underwater and a voice says hey Elvis I turn my head and at the end of a bar a blonde woman old enough to be my mother flashes her tits I smile weakly and buy her a beer glad to have found a new place to hide. |