What the hell am I doing drinking in L.A.?

There is a circus freak show of things writers get themselves into when they should be writing. Booze comes to mind first. After that, it's just a cacophony of the ridiculous. I'll do my best to expose you to some of the sordid places I go when the writing gets tough and the tough hide under the kitchen table. For instance, I thought it might be fun to use the word 'hirsute' in a poem. Essentially, it means hairy. Not exactly what I was thinking of. Lo and behold it was all downhill from there. For example:

Hirsute, my love won't matter

was the line I was thinking of. That was five hours of wasted time I'll never get back. After a vicodin and a call to the  suicide hotline I realize of course love won't matter if it's hairy. What the hell is that and who would write such a thing? After the pills kicked in and 'Wanda' talked me out of blowing my brains out, I realized I may have actually meant 'forsooth' which makes a lot more sense. It may not mean alot to most people but that's what happens when you lay around naked with a pad of paper and a pen.