Fourtysomething

I've loved whiskey more than I've loved any man, and I think it's high time that I admit that.
I mean, it's not as if I hate men, they seem fairly useful or even worthwhile sometimes. Take Keith Richards for instance. What a fucking dream boat. Hand me the bottle, dear.
Thank you. Now, you might be saying "Keith Richards? Who are you exactly?" Well, let me assure you that I am well aware of how ridiculous this all sounds but sometimes there isn't any explanation to things likt this. For some reason, Keith Richards seems to be my ideal man. Now that doesn't mean that I like him because he reminds me of my daddy or the trailer park I grew up in or whatever, no. I like him because of his nonchalant sex appeal. The hat, the tattoos, the makeup. The man isn't afraid of looking good for his own self. Cheers to that.
But, no, I've never been in a serious relationship. I was engaged once when I was about twenty or so, but I try to let that go. He didn't know what he wanted and I learned in school that sex was bad before marriage. And I really wanted sex, let me tell you. But, either way, I had a baby, gave it up for adoption. Never seen or heard from it again. Not that I very much care-I was too young at the time and I'm sure any sensible person could understand that. Pass me the ice, hon.
Ah. Now the real man in my life right now is Jim Beam. I got the whole G-damned train set in my attic I bring down every Christmas and put around the tree. Pretty as a picture and as effective as whiskey can be effective.
Yes, hon, just keep splitting the peas and I'll let you know when we've got enough. His name was Jim. Jim Itaska. Like the county, yes. His ancestors were the founders of the county seat, Fairview. They lived here for a while before the whole Itaska family moved to Louisville. Jim's family is a part of the family that stayed behind and kept the town going. Built the town hall.
Yeah, but we were young and confused. I was pregnant and it was just time to shit or get off the pot, really. He moved on after we broke up and got a wife a little later. Claire is her name. Yeah, the hair dresser down on the square. Nice lady. Does a fine bouffant, you ask me, for as much as she charges. I always try to give her a little tip whenever I see her. Do you want another?
Ah, fine, fine. No, my parents died a long time ago, when I was thirty four. They were in peak condition, the two of them, until they died in a car accident. Worst time of my life. I still miss them, but it gets a little easier with a little time. Same with Jim and Claire, you see. I don't hold nothing against nobody.
Every year on their anniversary I like to go out to the cemetery by the baptist church and lay out a couple of wreathes for them. Never went to church in all my years. After I got pregnant, though, my parents started to go pretty regularly. I went with them once or twice until I saw these white women staring at me, giving me this look like I was some kind of ruffian. I don't go back ever except to the cemetery on mom and daddy's anniversary. That's just enough to respect them. I don't want to get mixed up in all of that hellfire and brimstone business. All I need to get by is my decanters of Jim Beam and a bucket of ice, thank you very much.
Oh, you have to be heading out? Well, thanks for the unexpected visit. If you're ever in the neighborhood stop by again. Don't get too many visiters here anymore. But I understand, my house is a little bit out of the way, especially given the floods recently. G-damn. The roads were washed out pretty bad, weren't they? Oh, yeah. See it more often than I care to. It's tough getting around out here.
Oh? Ok, well thanks for the visit. I'll be seeing you. Save trip! Uh, huh. Bye bye.

A bit that I don't quite know how to manage

It was a window there, a permeable thing, and he was screaming. He knew nothing. He was naive.
And I hated him for it. We had known each other for a while and it was indistinct, the way that he was screaming. Not like there was something great and terrible out there. Like there was something inside himself, there, that he couldn't jar out of place--a foreign body in the thing he was screaming at, a body, his body, in the mirror there, the ugly mirror, the ugly thing, and the foreign body, himself. Who as there? It wasn't him.
And I hated him for it.