jimbo already didn´t distinguish day and night. he drank just in one piece. when he could not, so just dropped off. when he woke up, so he set into it again. he didn´t even pull off curtains. all he didn´t care what was happening outside. he didn´t go out among the people, he didn´t watch TV. when he needed booze, fags and chow, so he called me and i arranged everything. it was quite picky and, mainly in booze, he had very wide margin. vodka, port, small canned beer and especially red wine. he still managed drink out three or four liters a day. his favorite brand was brunello di montalcino by la poderino and because he was in the package (reportedly owned the wee butic winery in sonoma for rich guys), so he indulged it enough. cigarette, i took him down by boxes. he smoked lucky strike menthol (in ukraine, local people told him that it is bad for the heart and erection, but he pissed off at it). about the food, he didn´t care pretty much. he ate only fried eggs, pork paté, bread and green peppers. i used to come to his house reguraly on monday and friday. it always snubbed in front of the door. first time, he asked me just like the neighbor, if i hadn´t gone across the road to buy him some goods becouse of his sore legs (i just knes that his legs are allright but he didn´t want to see anyone and simply, he liked me) ... everytime he let me ten bucks and that was. i used to go to shopping to jj´s, own name mustafa, but somehow it did not work on my tongue. jj sold everything, even though i was only sixteen and i really looked at thirteen, but he didn´t care. well, he knew that all the stuff was for jimbo and additionally, he needed to pay the rent. one day, it was on friday, jimbo didn´t open. he died ... he said nothing to anyone and just winding his slippers. i went to jj, bought there a carton of lucky stricke menthol, six cans of beer and two bottles of red and then i told him that jimbo died. he said anything and took the change. i went to his shop anymore ...

this year i was forty and i stopped to pull out the curtains. sometimes, i think of jimbo's. outside hoots ambulance and i fill up the glass with la poderino .... life is crappy complicated and i slowly begin to loose the hope ... it's cause of the fucking winter or because that the radio plays very same shit..? with some exceptions lee fields and the expressions - never be another you



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