Monday, 11 January 2010

The night just wont end. And it might be the gin I've been drinking or it might just be that it's extremely difficult to sleep in these conditions. But either way, the shivering wont stop and my mind is racing. Filling with images from years ago, and some not so long ago, and thoughts of stupid events, and money, and the trust fund that's run dry, and trust, and exams and travelling and all manner of things.

And basically I've been popping Doxilamine Succinate like there's no tomorrow, and hell, I've even tried snorting it. And what's left of the powder, dashed across my desk, keys, credit card, egg shell blue. And Radiohead rhythmically floats from my flat pannel low watt crappy speakers, and fills the room. And a fan heater sends convection towards the ceilings. And I use the hair-dryer to warm the bed. And the snow from Siberia never comes. And eventually I start to lose focus, and sink. And at 0401 a car alarm wakes me, and radiohead at still playing, and I crave Ribena, and at 0847 my house mate returns, and at 0903 leaves again.

And I eventually force myself to wake up at 1028. And make a coffee for breakfast, and eat the foam for desert, topped with chocolate. And when it comes to reading some official documents, my head starts to race again, and I watch as the cars outside, a BMW 3 Series, and a Citron of some sort, struggle up the street, and I start to think about snow, and how it's formed and suddenly it's 1239 and these documents ain't gonna read themselves. So I head to Starbucks.

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