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I have a confession to make... In my exuberance, under the siren song of live music and frolic, I have overstated myself. Last entry... claiming to have burst bloodvessels in the purgative of dancing? Well, I got a better look in the cruel light of day. Those were the remnants of beer splashes on my leg. Must've gotten some dancefloor funk yobbed up on them, too, to give it that spiraly-purplish look. Fooled me. Especially when they wiped right off. Remeber your hygiene after every show, folks! Reality deals unkind blows. The true byproduct of such exuberance? An arse-cherry the size of a grapefruit. OK, I exaggerate. But it's more like growing a third testicle... and sitting on it. On a hornets nest. Not so romantic now, huh? Last night was payback-for-the-fun night. Too little sleep. Up too early to get the Volvo re-shod. Test-drive to Fredericksburg to fan the flames of Kim's radio station ideas. Bad overdubbed Kung Fu movies as the night came... to eventually pass out in front of the Brazil-Turkey match. S-a-t-u-r d-a-y... NIGHT! How the mighty have fallen. _________________________________________________ As usual, Sunday is the day to do everything that I said I was gonna do, three days ago. Including an escape to the woods to see how the blackberries are doing. A bucket's worth, plucked through the living concertina wire. NOT like Steve McQueen's motorcycle wreck in the Great Escape. But there was a little surprise... Playing hillbilly will get you. I was bashing away at the weeds, thinkin' about how those fresh berries would taste in vanilla ice cream... rounded a pile of taller weeds.... And five feet away from me bolted this brown streak, low to the ground, dappled spots on the back, and the ears plastered to its head... it's back as wide as its skull. At first I thought, "Cool... Bambi!" But they're long-legged and gangly. And longer-bodied. I'm thinking bobcat. Good thing I scared it, first. _________________________________________________ Crowned the day with finally getting around to watching The Filth And The Fury. Story of the Sex Pistols. Yes, they acted like complete wankers... it's just what England deserved, at the time. Still Does. Ask not for whom the bell tolls. The message? Be yourself, get off your arse... or Fek Off! ________________________________________________ Viva Brasil! in the World Cup final. Now, the abyss... no footie 'til August. Give Me Strength. |
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