I'm gonna get me a Gold WheelChair......

Over-terstosteroned Frenchmen, crap sweaty pubs filled to the drowning point with hulking moronic drunken Culchies, stomping around to Kylie like they were trying to kill rats back on the farm.

Later, another day, books, cool air, sick girlfriends receiving supplies from the front, cool pubs with cool jazz and unstable friends, animated political discussions, rendezvous' with Russian Mafia, drugs and champagne washed down by the sight of cute Kazakhstanians.

Night turns to morning, back problems as a result of digging up and wrestling with South American Grass. Meetings with aged, beaten almost never seen ex alcoholic cousins. Walking, woods, the music of wind and birds, engulfed by blood red leaves and blue skies so sharp they hurt my eyes, a newfound interest in the study of trees, hillwalking, too much overtime, and too little sleep.

Still at least Ill have the money from the overtime to invest in a wheelchair for my back problems that Alexander the Great would be envious of, if he were a cripple.

Just to let you know how my weekend was, in case you were thinking of asking.

Thats the last time I am letting my girlfriend leave me alone for a few days. Jesu, I cannot be trusted to start making sense....so much for adult behaviour.

Too busy to elaborate on it, willdo when I get a minute to myself, not likely for a while as those around me are obsessed with non-corporeal abstractions and intricate iterations.

Fuck me, when does it end, Ill take a guess and say not before I'm cruising on auto-pilot with the last brain cells burnt out of my head by the LCD razor light of computer screens.

peace and hope

FatherCrow