Thursday, December 14, 2006
00:30
*knock knock*
-Hang on...!
I wrap a blanket round my manly province and proceed to the door. Halfway there I suddenly remember that nobody's ever knocked for me before since I don't know anyone well enough that they'd turn up at my apartment block, somehow get in and then make their way to my door without phoning me first, or at least ringing the buzzer downstairs. That leaves only three possibilities:
a. a homeless addict has got in to the building, possibly armed with a syringe - and im about to open the door naked
b. it's the police or *shudder* immigration. definitely armed - and im about to answer the door naked
c. booty call at the wrong address - and im about to etc.
Please let it be c. Please let it be c. Please let it be c. Please let it be c.
*click*
It's d.
- one of my neighbours, a tall spotty friendly student-type who always says hello. Got a half-irish, half-german accent, poor bugger. No idea where he's from or what his name is.
"Sorry to bother you. Do you have any tin foil?"
-Sure. Is it for weed, crack or heroin?
(im joking, of course)
"Both (?!). Would you like to come in and have some?
-thanks, um.....i've given up smoking for a while
(and I have. An absurdly psychedelic episode last month made me rethink, again, the fragility of my hard-wo(r)n sanity. Aside from seeing the world through an increasingly complicated geometric kaleidoscope for 2 hours, entirely destroyed and then recreated after every breath and listening to every single note of a furiously funky, propulsive jazz piano solo as if it was played in slow motion, it was actually a pretty tough time. The weed here is fucking amazing and very 'up' but if you're prone to introspection then be prepared for a long, hard couch trip. I have no wish to repeat it in anything but the most ideal of circumstances. ie. 5 paces from my bed with the Man from Del Monte's own personal supply of dimpled Vitamin C spheres and one quiet, trustworthy friend to hold me and release me while i'm rustily crowbarring open my Ego, the dungeons in my head, and most scarily of all my pineal gland.
"Ok. Thanks a lot. I'll bring it back in a minute"
That was 90 minutes ago. How could he have forgotten?
|
*knock knock*
-Hang on...!
I wrap a blanket round my manly province and proceed to the door. Halfway there I suddenly remember that nobody's ever knocked for me before since I don't know anyone well enough that they'd turn up at my apartment block, somehow get in and then make their way to my door without phoning me first, or at least ringing the buzzer downstairs. That leaves only three possibilities:
a. a homeless addict has got in to the building, possibly armed with a syringe - and im about to open the door naked
b. it's the police or *shudder* immigration. definitely armed - and im about to answer the door naked
c. booty call at the wrong address - and im about to etc.
Please let it be c. Please let it be c. Please let it be c. Please let it be c.
*click*
It's d.
- one of my neighbours, a tall spotty friendly student-type who always says hello. Got a half-irish, half-german accent, poor bugger. No idea where he's from or what his name is.
"Sorry to bother you. Do you have any tin foil?"
-Sure. Is it for weed, crack or heroin?
(im joking, of course)
"Both (?!). Would you like to come in and have some?
-thanks, um.....i've given up smoking for a while
(and I have. An absurdly psychedelic episode last month made me rethink, again, the fragility of my hard-wo(r)n sanity. Aside from seeing the world through an increasingly complicated geometric kaleidoscope for 2 hours, entirely destroyed and then recreated after every breath and listening to every single note of a furiously funky, propulsive jazz piano solo as if it was played in slow motion, it was actually a pretty tough time. The weed here is fucking amazing and very 'up' but if you're prone to introspection then be prepared for a long, hard couch trip. I have no wish to repeat it in anything but the most ideal of circumstances. ie. 5 paces from my bed with the Man from Del Monte's own personal supply of dimpled Vitamin C spheres and one quiet, trustworthy friend to hold me and release me while i'm rustily crowbarring open my Ego, the dungeons in my head, and most scarily of all my pineal gland.
"Ok. Thanks a lot. I'll bring it back in a minute"
That was 90 minutes ago. How could he have forgotten?
|
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