HEY THIS IS THURSDAY'S POST... I MISSED MIDNIGHT BY three seconds ... not thanks to my own dallying but thanks to Googles up-****ing. Thanxx a log Google...
EVILSTEIN, MY OBJECTIONABLE LANLORD'S AGENT came bursting in this afternoon, knocking my drink over, telling me the place is too untidy (he thinks I should dispose of all I own and subsist in an operating theatre. Even then, like the legendary military tent-inspection, I know he'd find fault enough with whatever I did to label the surgical blankness "dirty".
Evilstein's useless henchmen had to measure up in order to fit/order/install replacement windows~(??!) I cannot help but wonder what extremes they will be pushed to in the bodge-job stakes with this particular assignment ... What will go wrong?... Windows that don't fit? Ones that don't open (that's more Evilstein's style). PVCu monstrosities that go cloudy in the sun..?? Something's bound to go dramatically wrong!
I had horrible dreams all night last night. Some recurring nightmare of being under arrest in a giant hi-tech police station. Can't even remember the alleged "crime" but I've never done it. What I recall was that it was all symbolic of my giving up drugs. Seeing that no escape was possible I turned to plotting methods of suicide. Eventually settling on an undeclared hunger strike to weaken the body then to take a piece of metal, a shard of glass, plastic even or a paperclip or anything that is sharp or could be sharpened, anything that I could muster in desperation and lunge at, tear into my flesh deep enough to gash open a major blood vessel open in the dead of night and lie there quietly bleeding in rivers of my own blood wrapped in sheets trying not to sob or scream out, just to get through it right to the bitter end... and then... Sunrise.
Not to perpetrate Natural Justice upon myself for I had done nothing wrong (not, at least the major crime of which I was accused). But just to Go Home... finally. At long last. Just to Get Out of there and Go Home... Where I belong.
Woke up in a sweat and feeling sick for drugs. The methadone I'd taken had not been enough.
I've always been useless at detoxification. A big crying baby whose dummy has been taken away. (Only by my own choice!) Of course I've managed these past 33 years without a dummy but o! At the time, aged 2, I bet: the horrors! The pains I went through!!
Imagine if you can that we could all recall in detail the protracted agonies of our own babyhoods? The hot nights crying ill with childhood fevers, the horrors of teething, the constant upsets. All those hours on end we have spent lying abandoned and bawling our eyes out with curried nappies and nobody is running here fast enough (Mum is probably fast asleep and I don't blame her. Looking after me must have been so exhausting.) At 4am nobody hears your screams. And time, of course, passes ten, twenty, perhaps thirty times more slowly through the infant mind... only multiplying one's discomforts... What an agony life would be if we all grew up remembering all of that... And we'd all think we had the excuse to grow up into heroin addicts - addled by the sheer trauma of not having been coddled ...
Not much in the way of robo-news today. Last night I gave them Red Label 40 teabags box with tiny windows sniped into each of six sides. Itchy, once he got fed up of being loop-the-looped by the 2 heavier wheel-marathon-ing hammies, spent hours in there, washing his wet fur even wetter and attacking alien-fingered millet sprays...
Wow I'm knock-knack-knackered. I'm sure I've still got dregs of that Chronic Fatigue Syndrome from eleven years past. As every time I physically push myself I end up oversleeping... hours and hours on end... for days and days at a time...
Sly and the Family Stone: Family Affair
"Moonfall": Making a Record... (original link was to "take ii")
Sly Stone's Website! http://slystonemusic.com
LOOKING FOR LUIGI - Casa natale di Luigi Pirandello As a French and Italian undergraduate back in the late sixties and early seventies, one of the authors whose work was to h...
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