He was a master at walking in a straight line when he was drunk. If he could’ve had some kind of school where he could teach that skill, he’d have had enough success and money that maybe it would have kept him from drinking in the first place. After he would get loaded on gin, he’d walk a steady line from the living room straight through to the kitchen, which was a pretty good walk for someone with a bottle of 90 proof in him and not much food. After he got to the kitchen, he’d sit down at the table and put his arm out to show you how steady his hands were. Nothing. Not a shake, not a movement. Holy shit. How does he do that? The Houdini of hooch, or whatever the hell you called what he drank. He was really proud of this ability. Which lasted for about another 20 minutes until he passed out. Then you’d get the quiet period between the pass out and the waking up so rip roaring drunk he couldn’t remember your name or that you were one of his kids from this marriage and not the last one or the one before that. Which of course we didn’t know about until after he was dead. Imagine your old man asking you if you’re Joan’s daughter and you don’t even know who Joan is. It was a good guessing game. Steady there old man. Don’t tell us too much.
ruby
This makes no sense. I’m standing on one foot at the edge of a 20 story building, holding a baby carrier with a heavy baby in one hand and a firecracker in the other. Did I mention the baby is sleeping?
Mitch Harris
Steady as she goes, steady as she goes… The song annoys me now. It brings back false memories, and by false I mean I was surrounded by a bunch of fakers who put false and flimsy ideas in my head about camaraderie and adventure.
Zoe
I’m a little unsteady, in the words of x ambassadors. If you were unsteady it means you had lost a sense of balance.
jaylen
“Steady,” he said, holding her hand as she tiptoed her away across the log. The stream was far from the raging torrent it had been during the storms last month, but the memory alone was enough to make him clutch her little fingers tighter. “You’re almost there.”
“Steady,” they murmur to me, to keep me calm.
“Keep on being steady.” They mumble, and I close my eyes to.
I don’t know what I would don without them, to keep me calm.
My gaze is as steady as my breath is deep, my heartbeat as erratic as your thoughts. Quick flashes, deep cuts, red lips, blue blood.
I recall writing about this yesterday…
He was a master at walking in a straight line when he was drunk. If he could’ve had some kind of school where he could teach that skill, he’d have had enough success and money that maybe it would have kept him from drinking in the first place. After he would get loaded on gin, he’d walk a steady line from the living room straight through to the kitchen, which was a pretty good walk for someone with a bottle of 90 proof in him and not much food. After he got to the kitchen, he’d sit down at the table and put his arm out to show you how steady his hands were. Nothing. Not a shake, not a movement. Holy shit. How does he do that? The Houdini of hooch, or whatever the hell you called what he drank. He was really proud of this ability. Which lasted for about another 20 minutes until he passed out. Then you’d get the quiet period between the pass out and the waking up so rip roaring drunk he couldn’t remember your name or that you were one of his kids from this marriage and not the last one or the one before that. Which of course we didn’t know about until after he was dead. Imagine your old man asking you if you’re Joan’s daughter and you don’t even know who Joan is. It was a good guessing game. Steady there old man. Don’t tell us too much.
This makes no sense. I’m standing on one foot at the edge of a 20 story building, holding a baby carrier with a heavy baby in one hand and a firecracker in the other. Did I mention the baby is sleeping?
Steady as she goes, steady as she goes… The song annoys me now. It brings back false memories, and by false I mean I was surrounded by a bunch of fakers who put false and flimsy ideas in my head about camaraderie and adventure.
I’m a little unsteady, in the words of x ambassadors. If you were unsteady it means you had lost a sense of balance.
“Steady,” he said, holding her hand as she tiptoed her away across the log. The stream was far from the raging torrent it had been during the storms last month, but the memory alone was enough to make him clutch her little fingers tighter. “You’re almost there.”
“Steady,” they murmur to me, to keep me calm.
“Keep on being steady.” They mumble, and I close my eyes to.
I don’t know what I would don without them, to keep me calm.
got a rhyme ready
breathe, take it steady
don’t get too heady
be smooth like jelly
uh oh, kinda sweaty
upset belly
wobbly leggies
like they’re good & plenties
time to mr resetti
words are deadly
tongue like machete
broken levee
guess I should get to that rhyme already
You don’t have to be my rock,
or the balance to my tipping scale.
You don’t have to steady me,
or keep me safe from everything.
Steady can be something that is firmly fixed. Something can also be steady.