You know it’s true what Jimmy Buffet said “some people say that there’s a woman to blame, but I know it’s my own damn fault.”

I’ve found myself thinking that, matched with corona and margarita, a straw hat covering up sun burned memories as I run my toes through the sand.

Jimmy knew what he was talking about. That feeling when you can’t do anything right and don’t even want to try anymore. So you have a drink and forget. And then another drink, and another drink.

Then you lay out on the beach staring at the stars at high tide waiting for the waves to take you back to where you came from: the midwest.

And it’s all in your head, I guess. The same place where thoughts dance, ideas grow, feelings die, and that goddamn buzzing just won’t stop.

And you find yourself drunk, driving down the highway at night like a bastard out of hell, swinging the wheel of your car, throwing empty beer bottles along the high way, screaming at the top of your lungs “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO GOD!”

It’s true what he said, old Jimmy. Truer than true. Truer than most. True and Blue. Black and Blue.

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