Free Man Walking

I have nothing to do with my time, so after a big (read: drunken) night out at Po Na Na with me mates, I wake up bright and early (well, 12 of the clock) so that I might have ample time in which to do the nothing which I must do. About Po Na Na, the few old school isomers that were there really showed the newbies, who scrapered off home at 11pm. And we had only begun shifting up through the gears.

I sauntered around town, looking to buy shoes and wearing my old scuffed Moshulus (you won’t find them in no Cosmopolitan, girl!) that made me look like I really needed them shoes, so I couldn’t get any bargains anywhere. My Moshulus, by the way, have superior ‘air waves’ technology for breathing feet caused by the incessant and persistent efforts of my big toes working for their freedom from ‘Sock Smell Central’.

Popped in to the central library, I got one book for myself (Arthur Clarke’s ‘Cradle’), another book for myself (Robert Rankin’s ‘the hollow chocolate bunnies of the apocalypse’) and one book to hold while about town, the cover of which is not prominently but cheekily displayed as I gaze thoughtfully into the distance ’cause the chicks dig an intellectual man (The Dalai Lama’s ‘Freedom in exile’ -spiritual as well, can’t go wrong there!). Also got Paganini’s 24 capricci, the best of the violin solos played like a crazed Yngwie Malmsteen. Nice lady at the desk gave moi a “Central Library”tm plastic bag worth 15p for free, maybe beacuse I had just shelled out Β£3.44 in fines (Β£3.44, where else but in a library, eh?)

I had a great Wetherspoons lunch with pasta Alfredo (I’ve made up my mind to meet this Alfredo one day and thank him, maybe slip him a few bob for his trouble) and Ali regaling me with hilarious stories of his flatmates.
A big thanks to Karen, who lurks on these pages but leaves no trace of her passing, for the congrats.

Also thanks to Ioannie, Jessy, B of S, Rachey, Rayk and tinks for cheering my Not-so-magnum Opus. Thanks to my director, for believing in me when even the soaps thought I was washed up. Okay, I did a few lines, I was crazy, success got to my head. But now I’ve cleaned up man! And this award proves it. I’m here, and I’m here to stay.

Oh, and by the way, for those who were concerned and flooded these pages with their wishes: The Chinese guys made it up safe, and they’re now looking down upon us as we speak. So I guess that tape of “Launch disasters: The greatest out-takes all in one chair-busting bonanza”, in Chinese of course, but I don’t know how to say ‘bonanza’ in Chinese. Nor the rest of it, for that matter πŸ˜› (Ah, the old ones are the best ones!) is going back on the shelf awaiting another auspicious moment.

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6 Comments

  1. Random Q: Have you ever read `Flowers for Algernon`? It’s about this guy who has an operation to triple his IQ and he ends up talking in such an intellctual way that nobody understands a word he’s saying.
    Now re-read your post. Maybe it’s not such a random question! πŸ˜› (But you can take it as a compliment!)

    Reply
  2. jessy

     /  13 October, 2005

    Someone’s dissertation is done exactly the way this post is done. Hope this help Rachey to understand this! It is bullshit mode so things can be a bit messy but who cares as long as we have enough words!

    Reply
  3. a big night out with no trace of a hangover!

    congratulations!

    xxB

    Reply
  4. Ioannis

     /  14 October, 2005

    But some others do understand. Rachey, you need to sharpen your IQ.

    Reply
  5. The operation is booked for Monday. Your IQ does increase with breast size, right? πŸ™‚

    Reply
  6. Hangovers are for sissys! Or people who sleep too early. If you stay up drinking all night, then you’re not hungover the next day. Only drunk.
    The dromedary camel is famed for its intelligence because of the backup brains it carries in its two humps. Another example is the super-savant Jordan, whose life-threatening intelligence is a result of her mega mammaries.

    Reply

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