Dreamed I was at work at the Norwood. It was closing time and I was cleaning out the last table in the “hole”. A customer (the one I cut off last week) asked me to bring him a glass. I explained to him that the reason I wouldn’t bring him one was because he couldn’t drink any more. I pointed out to him that he’d have to leave—now. He was, up to that point, oblivious to that reality and was just being stoned on alcohol, drifting into Joan Baez songs. I wiped down the bar…
June 11, 1990
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