I declined the shot of whiskey offered to me. "I can't get drunk Edmond," I said. "I still have to do some art." My streak of doing some art daily had extended several years. "Arthur," Edmond said firmly. 'If you can't get drunk today when can you?" He was right. Our friend Bubba had passed away that morning. We were sitting there in his kitchen still. So we drank toasts to Bubba and numbed our ache till I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up in a panic. It was dark and I feared it was past midnight and my streak was over. Bubba wouldn't have liked being the reason the streak ended. He got a kick out of it. I looked at the clock and knew I had time. I grabbed a sketchpad and looked around for something to draw. I spotted the jacket hanging over the chair and sketched it ink. My streak was still alive. I went over it with watercolor the following day.
March 3rd, 2016
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