I beg your pardon, have you seen my mind?
Today was my day off. I had a mini-panic attack in the morning, surfing up on this BBC headline: "Black youth's arrest sparks riots in South London." In Brixton, where my sister lives. I had the phone in my hand and was halfway through dialing my mother before I noticed: it happened today in 1981. I was ten at the time and thought some day I'd grow up to be someone who wore a collared shirt to work.
In my experience manual labour has the same effect on the brain as chronic weedsmoking. I guess it's pretty self-explanatory why no one really ever writes about this phenomenon. Lately I've caught myself using "fucking" as prefix, suffix and infix. (Eg. Q: "How's it going in there?" A: "Crap-fucking-tastic.")
Until effects subside, photos must suffice. I'll try to post some every day as long as long as this wireless connection holds out.
In my experience manual labour has the same effect on the brain as chronic weedsmoking. I guess it's pretty self-explanatory why no one really ever writes about this phenomenon. Lately I've caught myself using "fucking" as prefix, suffix and infix. (Eg. Q: "How's it going in there?" A: "Crap-fucking-tastic.")
Until effects subside, photos must suffice. I'll try to post some every day as long as long as this wireless connection holds out.
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