A Micawberish Unbosoming perhaps...

I am thinking, again.
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A Moss Rose, a Memphis belle,---

(whose comb I stole.)

She grew up in Mississippi though, until about age of ten, then moved to Memphis (which makes me think of The Reivers, William Falkner's only comedy.)

Sober all her adult life until age 32 or sometime, then a few crazy-ing years on junk. She wasn't like the rest of them, Regis.

But I want to tell you what was said. (Yes she was this Ferlenghetti "Her", but that is incidental.)

She said to me of our long term treatment house, The Eclipse, "This is not a good place to be."

We were walking downtown to the post office this beautiful June day. There was reassurance in this simple statement, even as some fear entered and passed through me. It was true.

So, I'd got a friend who would make asides as simple as this, obviating the need for anyone to shout at me "You're in deep trouble!"

Soon we were laughing again, and would for another couple of summer months.
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Nothing I write about anybody is about them, it's about me. This you already know already.
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Yes it was a good place too.

No it wasn't. Yes it was.

You could get lunged at. People were crazy and on drugs.
You could go swirly mad and be sent down the chute, further into the system --- prison or the asylum.

Lots could go wrong.

Now, though, everything revealed the intricacies of my day-dreams before I was saved. The Eclipse was made to order and reverse engineering seems to disclose me.

I wanted to stop dying of course, but I wanted life back in full, nearly day-dreamed glory. I wanted a large home with a menagerie of characters. I wanted for a small cosmos of semi-civilized humanity to surround me, with each person doing a turn, perhaps tilting toward me over time, then into orbit.

Periapsis, apoapsis.

People would come and go, I would miss them and welcome them back. I wanted life like a dream, only it could be a realistic novel or play.

But that is not all.

I wanted cooks to cook, nurses to nurse, counselors (philosophers) to argue with, authorities to play tag, or cat and mouse,
...
villians to bait,

rarely but surely some friends to make.
....
And the house not only had a ersatz family but regular guests!

In fact there were three emergency beds so in a sense we took in boarders, the 12 or 15 or us, and sometimes we'd invite the boarders to stay on.

Join us , where they say first you must rest, and then get well (from our luxurious disease).

I could be interviewed several times daily, which pleased me.

Everyone was a prisoner and it was important that I was a prisoner too, or else how could I defend this endless indulgence?

I am often like the big dope people have to tell him he's not in a good situation.

"No, this is not good. It looks like one of your obvious daydreams, is the problem. That tips us off."

It's struck some friends as so uncanny, they couldn't believe at first.

"And it ticks us off, those who care for you, Georgie. This is very serious. You need to be realistic..."