My home broadband is still not working so it's another quick message from the cyber cafe. I just had to choose whether to spend my last pennies on food or internet...
So I don't really have time to tell you about our visit to the City Farm where the sight of a former crackhead sitting calmly on a rock coaxing three lambs to join him made us all smile, and where another of my addicts chums showed me how the fourth knuckle on his right fist is flattened from punching a cow.
Neither will I have time to tell you how I took some paracetamol for a headache today and remembered that, as I used to be constantly hungover, I was popping them every four hours all day. I used to feel that bad all the time.
Or the gossip I was told that, for several days before he got discharged, one of my peers was somehow passing off urine not his own in the twice-weekly piss test.
INFINITE JEST: Pages 679-725
- Drug dealing described as "operating a pharmaceutical company without a licence".
- Randy Lenz's cocaine paranoia of being followed by helicopters "that flew too high to see, hovering, the tiny chop of their rotors disguised as your own drumming heart".
I am so hysterically middle-class and protected from life's ills that my first reaction was "oh my goodness the poor cow!"
ReplyDeleteTells you all you need to know about my failings and strengths as a human, I fear.
The cow didn't deserve it, to be fair, she just startled my city-born friend during a late-night country walk (of dubious purpose).
ReplyDeleteBlogger ate your comment about the pee test guilt - but I agree. And I look forward to uke tales!