formally neglecting obligations

it's been an off night for the bywater. for the last half hour I have watched my cat clean himself. I do not understand this fascination, nor the contortions. gunshots fired earlier in the night, listening now again, outside there are sounds of argumentative laughter for which I have no translation. and to backtrack once more, earlier, I drank one last beer for the sake of personal safety, staying briefly indoors and off the street, momentarily, to study one of my favorite bartenders as she is only more striking than before, more dangerous than I remember ... she as the beautiful night, a woman and enigma through and through and through fire ... to further define her there is no need or possibility of survival. you will stand at Permanent Loss. my home away from home, where to so closely convey by touch this dogged understanding, I have not ever existed to stand a chance. and thus forms my fucking resolve ... my promise to relate what little I can without edit or inhibition from this fucking no man's land of women and foolish impropriety not rightly suited for the sound of mind.  understand. I am a privileged white male and my perspective on this matter and the world is great. and therefore, I must either be a banker or a writer ... a goliath menace and a pusher of biblical proportions all the same, I have no choice. and jesus will shit himself when I set forth towards the kingdom on high. for certain, another drink will no longer do for the almighty ... or god for that matter. but for now the heavens can rest ... I am tired and through the open window of my bedroom the birds have begun to make their presence known and I do not have the energy to turn off the light or open my eyes now that they have closed. there is only this last remaining thought.