champion angel as a personal soundtrack

Six of us early evening in a restaurant and then late to a harbourside bar with a guitarist playing 70's songs.
Throw up your voice but not your mind
While them agents of change go monopolize
Their colors and their faces are just shades of the same
All lost in the game
Then icy night deserted streets watched by crescent moon
I promise you this promise we are not alone
But why is it I alone that promise this
Deny the forces that would hurry men
If you still can
Pack to go home before morning city centre session then cross town to where all the pieces were thrown in the air.
We come now to a fracture in the road
Here time has taken her toll
The endless freezing and the thawing of the heart
Would eventually divide us apart
So I'm here for a few more days whilst we figure it all out.
What's that you found in the pocket of your coat
Looks like a small sentiment that she wrote
Don't be my personal savior I would not be saved
I chose to walk alone

Among all you angels is a champion angel
Among all you devils there's a free soul
Up from the disenfranchised the engine cries
Up from the circle there's a hole

impressions from a freetown

Sunday late afternoon, I took a taxi from the airport to drop my bag before grabbing a map and heading for the nearby freetown commune to take a cautious look around.

After about half an hour of walking, I found myself in an area initially reminiscent of the western side of the Glastonbury Festival.

The difference is that there's around 600-700 permanent residents in this area which was first established sometime in the early 1970s, with its axis centred upon 'Pusher Street'.

For me, it was a bustling late afternoon and many people were using the various cafes and bars, some of which had a rather improvised kind of look. In the central area, there were various 'no photography' signs, which I respected. My limited snaps are from the periphery of what is a large area.

The little symbol above the restaurant sign is three yellow circles on a red background, which is the flag for this freetown area.

Many homeless have gravitated to the area and now using some of the brick structures of what I believe had once been a military camp along with other improvised timber buildings.

I could hear a band practicing in one area and the sounds of skateboards from another. There had been a road layout but now there were no cars and revised paths intersected the area. There appeared to be the remnants of an old bus terminal.

It was an area of contrasts. As well as the shop keepers running bars and cafes and some sort of nightclub scene, there were many individual people drinking beer from bottles along the edges of the street and others alone smoking prominent rolled-up cigarettes.

Through it all walked groups of what were clearly well dressed tourist 'outsiders'.

The freetown set its own agenda. They have argued with the politicians in order to be able to exist. They have their own rules although the State police also make regular visits. There's an economy of sorts and I believe they also have a special currency.

I didn't stay long enough to get an idea of what people in the area really think. I believe this model was originally described as a way to build a new society, as a social experiment. Their messaging is certainly filled with hope.

But I was not well prepared for this visit which created for me an impression of something that was balancing right on the edge, barely surviving.

catch a falling star

A somewhat compressed weekend with Saturday's sangria laced tapas excursion but then yesterday evening a darkened Earth Hour viewing of the enchanted Stardust movie.

Co-incidentally, I'd seen this Neil Gaimann movie once before on Spanish hotel television with a foreign soundtrack which didn't help my general comprehension. I don't think it was the sangria the last time.

The movie reminded me that I carry a fallen star in my luggage. It's a small purple glittery ceramic star about the size of a medium size coin.

It must have originally fallen from some wrapping paper, and I found it on the stairs at home and originally slipped it into my pocket. 'Catch a falling star, put it in your pocket, never let it fade away' as the old song goes.

So I havn't; it may not shimmer as much as Clare Danes in the movie, but it is still sparkles as a symbol of happy times.

is blah the next twitter?

A dilemma with twitter is deciding whether to let it grab blog feed headlines and let them be auto posted.

I've found that I'd think longer about blog headings if I think they will also show up in twitter, which interferes with the 'ten minutes a day' process of the blog.

So, with a few possible exceptions, I shall no longer worry about the twitter side-effect.

town and country day

Momentarily back in the Daily Smoke, and actually able to check into the office on Friday for a couple of meetings.

Something of a fly-by though because in the afternoon I was out beyond the M25 at a huge well-behaved and manicured green-lawned office block campus walking allong narrow twisting paths over wooden bridges from a distant car-park to the site of my appointed meeting.

Yes, their closest car parks were full and I was routed to another one around a kilometre away. I found the gentle Alice twisting walk parallel to the estate roads as a soothing moment to let the signs of Spring into my soul.

bicycle hurdles

It looks like a clear path, but imagine the bikes erratically reversing across the pavement as one moves forward like some kind of fairground ride.

That's like my day today with its seven am breakfast meeting and then a continuously shifting pattern of hurdle meetings. By eight thirty there were also changes affecting the next couple of weeks and my travel plans. I shall need to comprehensively re-map my schedule.

Delayed flight in the evening and then back home until Sunday morning.

UPDATE after comment...

I discover the Temporary Apartment's 1930s modernist styling is officially in the buzzing latin quarter

It turns out that this area I'm staying in is officially the local Latin quarter. I finally got around to reading a guide book, which has actually been laying around in a special box, along with an enormously expensive fashion magazine which seems to be provided as part of the service.

The little grey book, in English, describes all of the nearby cafes with words and phrases like 'funky', 'fusion', 'designer pricing', 'invitingly affordable', 'worth trying the house champagne' and my particular favourite 'Paustian complex'.

Why the interest? I've invited some of the locals for an evening together next week and need to decide on a venue. My UK equivalent code phrase in my Outlook calendar would be 'beer and curry', but somehow around here I don't think that will do it.

I'll have to choose between 'sensual simpicity', 'sophisticatedly rewarding prices' and 'cool velvet verve'.

Maybe it will be the limousine oaked ambience of a whitewashed medieval cellar? or to get-down-diggy on the wild side? I should have asked the orange boiler-suited DJ who was playing Euro-trance at the house party in the Temporary Apartment's Atrium yesterday.

Decisions...

calendar malfunction creates a taxi conversation about phone numbers

I've spent today zig-zagging around this snow stormy town in taxis. Until it all went horribly wrong.

A simple calendar malfunction between two different systems.

My system showed one venue and the other system showed another. We'd both arrived at what was effectively each others' base camp for what was supposed to be a face to face meeting. My colleague and I called a cab to go back to our base for the meeting.

Bizarrely the cab driver was one we'd had much earlier in the day. I was quite surprised but apparently this is less unusual in this city with its short phone numbers.

So we talked about phone numbers whilst we made our way back and said I thought that American numbers were originally designed for big cities to have short rotary numbers (ie like 1s and 2s and 3s rather than 8,9,0).

Of course we couldn't prove my assertion, which I said came from a book I'd once read called Microserfs.

I'd have let it rest. But my colleague decided to look it up.

So later this evening, after I returned from a short visit to The Comforting Pizza Place, I received an email with a copy of a Wikipedia article about American phone numbers. Yes, New York did get 212 and LA did get 213, Chicago 312 and so forth. Vermont was 802 (20 clicks) or something similar.

I then felt compelled to score an online copy of Microserfs to check out my original source. Sure enough a Russian website had an illicit online copy.

It's all there in the conversation with Karla.

the rain has made the path very muddy

One of those days where I've got a bit stuck in't mud.

Lots to do but I've had that overwhelming sense of going backwards because of all of the new time stealers that have nudged their way into the line.

Here I am considering whether to spend another few hours trying to catch up, or if its simply better to down tools and start fresh tomorrow.

Maybe rain stopped play?

Blue sky and a pair of soaring Red Kites

A chance movement from the corner of my eye and I looked skyward to see a very large bird of prey being hassled by another smaller one.

Its around where I cycle and I was semi prepared for the larger bird to be a Red Kite, sure enough with its reddish outline and V shaped tail. A supremely majestic outline - probably one of the best views I have had of this bird with its nearly 6 foot wingspan.

As I looked further I spotted another higher bird; the second Kite. They were soaring around the area hardly moving their wings. The smaller darker third bird gave up and moved away and the other two continued effortlessly across the sky.

Sitting on a cafe sofa watching the world

I've had a few people make references to TNSTNO The Nearby Shop That Never Opens and TICBS The Interesting Coffee and Book Shop over the last few days along with veiled suggestions that I'm making all of this up as part of some novel narrative.

Let me just say it's all true. Even the part about the frogs. And to think I have even supplied photographic evidence.

But to reassure people that I do also get to more normal venues whilst around town, here's another of the cafes where we've sat and whiled away time whilst sipping local beer.

Light

As well as the main rashbre site, I write an occasional post across on 'rashbre snapped', which is about photography. So with some pleasure I received a parcel through the post upon my return to the UK, and within it a book about an aspect of photography. With all my evening and night shots at this time of year, perhaps its also a hint to me?

The topic is about Light.

The book is covering an aspect fundamental to photography, but as I read and thought about it I realised how much I didn't know. Quite often when I obtain reference books on varied topics, its a quick flick through to find some new points, or to help solve a particular problem. This was different because I could gain new information from most chapters.

As well as covering the theory of light and colour spaces, it moves into ways to manipulate or take advantage of light to handle different situations.

Its a heavy book to carry at some 500 pages, but its well divided into sections and has comprehensive areas around lighting, reflectors, tripods, stands, flash, post-production and indoor and outdoor work. Even the little section on light incidence at times of day and in different seasons is useful.

I guess a more experienced photographer may have most of this knowledge, but for a more casual snap-shotter like me its a strong reference by professional people who have obviously learned by experience.

The authors, Brian and Janet Stoppee have film camera heritage but work digitally now, and in addition to the sections on post-production with Adobe and similar, there's a strong emphasis on getting it right in the camera. SOOC as I call it (Straight Out Of Camera).

The second part of the book takes many topics across a simple two page spread format, which is a handy way to browse, whilst also keeping related topics together as a narrative.

If I have a criticism, its of some of the actual photographs that make it into the book. My guess is that the book was quite a long time in production and may have been two books pushed together or has had some sort of makeover. There's some signs of this with a few early pictures that suffer from heavily jagged edges - presumably from small originals. There's also sections that are quite polarized towards a particular product set around Nikon cameras and Matthews Stands and Lighting equipment. I happen to use Nikon so its no big deal and the points made are applicable to pretty much any dSLR combination. My guess is that perhaps the book was originally destined with a different title or similar.

For me, the sections around light placement, metering and colour temperature all had good 'Ahah' moments and thats just scratching the (shiny) surface of what for me is a good reference volume.

Photography and Light - Brian and Janet Stoppee - Focal Press 2009 - well worth a look.

evening wine seemed to loosen the tongue

Back in London today and meeting a long time friend at the Archduke, near Waterloo. It's been an age since we were together, but we soon fell into update, discussion, debate and then onward to future plans.

Quite different lives, but with remarkable moments of intersect and overlap. I'm not sure either of us had planned to spend the entire evening sharing wine and chatting, but by late evening we became the last people in what had earlier been a rather lively jazz bar, with me finally returning home around one thirty in the morning with an alarm call for six. Oops.

why is the daily mail calling me at night?

I'm assuming that the Daily Mail is running out of readers now, because they appear to be lurking in shadows trying to convert me.

They (or their representatives) have been repeatedly phoning my home number to try to entice me to buy their version of the news.

I've been getting calls from one of those 0800 numbers despite having the 'opt out' system to prevent from getting cold callers. I was finally indoors when one of the calls came through and decided to pick up to find out who it was.

"The Daily Mail" explained someone with a South African accent.

He also seemed to know just slightly too much about me, like where I get papers delivered from and they were trying to persuade me to take their paper with lots of half price tokens and a £50 coupon from Marks and Spencer.

I told them I did not want their version of events and I'm wondering how many different codes of conduct they have broken.

17th recollection

I just noticed the seventeenth's blog entry was posted as draft. I spent the day in meetings, interspersed with strange recollections of people in green hats and clothes running around this foreign city centre tied together in pairs.

There was one overtly Irish Bar with many people on the street drinking what looked like Pilsner and another bar at the other end of a pedestrian area which seemed to be on the route for those with three legs.

Everyone appeared to be having a good time, but I had an overwhelming sense of it looking somehow wrong.

I discover the Interesting Coffee and Book Shop

I've still not had much time for exploring the neighbourhood around the Temporary Apartment although I've worked out how most of the area links together and that includes the discovery of the nearby bookstore zone, which comprises quite a few bookstore cafes. T

The above pictured Interesting Coffee and Book Shop is my favourite and in addition to good coffee, cakes and wifi, there's a bustle of people visiting and quite often loitering for conversation.

My book of choice for such moments has been Popco by Scarlett Thomas, who wrote The End of Mr Y, which I reviewed here some time ago.

Popco was an earlier novel and there's some themes which I think were developed further in Mr Y, including virtual worlds, homeopathic remedies and some clever bits of science.

The book has also had a makeover so that it looks similar is style to Mr Y, complete with blue edged pages (Mr Y had black edges).

I noticed this with a wry smile when I realised quite a lot of the content of the earlier book is about how corporations market to consumers.

I like the personal narrative style of the book, on incidentals as well as the main storyline and the twists into cryptography and the chance references to William Gibson, who is another author whose books I enjoy.

There's also some sections about the people who divine lifestyle trends, which flipped me straight back into Pattern Recognition (also reviewed here at some time in the past).

I thoroughly enjoyed the first 4/5 of the book and the way the intertwined stories unfolded. I'll admit to a little disappointment around the last pivot in the story, although I think there needed to be some device to bring it all together. I'll admit I'd also worked out what the necklace was using before it popped out of the story.

I won't say more about that though, and the general narration, lines of thinking and main premises were all good fun and it was one of those books that I was sorry to have finished.

Maybe I should re-read Mr Y.

But for now, here's me crossing the road on the way to the Interesting Coffee and Book Shop.

noodling around at the airport

I decided to check my baggage for today's flight instead of taking it as carry-on. The airport at the far end is fast, so rather than hauling baggage around the airport it was easier to hand it over.

I see so many people agitatedly carrying everything onto the plane and stashing it in the overhead lockers. I do it myself for some journeys, but I'm not obsessive about it and would rather travel light.

Row three today and although there was food, it was more of an 'afternoon tea' with scones, strawberry jam and clotted cream. I made do with a cup tea.

The unusual thing at the far end is that the luggage reclaim sells beer and hot-dogs. I travel quite a lot but don't recollect seeing this facility in other places.

In fact, I diverted through the airport to pick up some Chinese noodles and vegetables in a little 'to go' box, before heading to the belt. I thought I'd take it back to the Temporary Apartment as a kind of supper.

Just finished the noodles. Yum.

Sent from a handheld device

the faintly disturbing rubber duck

Is it just me, or is there something faintly disturbing about the chain clad rubber duck in the corner of the bathroom in the Temporary Apartment?

It looks even more severe when it wears the bath plug as a hat.

I may have to hide it.

Sent from a handheld device

counting theologically perspectived buses in Oxford Street

I sometimes say that when rashbre central strays away from posting about London for too long then I'll put up a picture with a bus or a taxi in it.

As I've been away a fair bit recently (and that continues this week when I fly out again on Sunday), then its about time to bring on the buses.

And this time there's easy subject matter with the full theological debate on the streets of London, with the atheists providing one bus-sided view point and a publisher of Bibles providing another.

I gather the first advert was taken to the advertising standards authority, who ruled it fair and reasonable because it used "probably".

No such timidity from the Bible folk, who have used a rather more definitive statement.

The rashbre central bus advertising is neither one thing nor the other. And the whole episode finally gives me a chance to post Camille O'Sullivan superbly singing "God is in the House".

the horizon is a beltway and the skyline's on fire

I was chasing the sunset across the sky at 600 mph this evening, watching it as a red flamed stripe on the horizon pulling away from us.

The picture's in my head because all my electronics were out of reach.

It so fits with the Low Anthem songs I've been listening to for the last few days.

"You'll hear that distant love song when the wind blows right. Hear the whistle blowing, put a tear into your eye. You hear the distant love song but widows know the lie. The horizon is a beltway, the skyline is on fire."

Its a new CD that I expect will stay in my playlist for a long time although I've a feeling its far from mainstream.

The hand painted sleeve on my copy is numbered 2239, suggesting this band has a rather selective reach.

I also get the feeling that they can more or less play their album tracks in a single take. There's a rawness and live quality that gets edited out of many shiny productions and here the different sound stages and productions really work.

Mix some Waits, Band, Decemberists and Neutral Milk Hotel to get an idea of how to find the ghosts in the train yard and the ghosts in the drink.

foie-gras ice cream starters at the brewery

I left the safe comfort of the area around the Temporary Apartment this evening.

We had planned to dine in an Area of Possible Danger.

We'd arranged to meet in a converted brewery but I'd heard a few macabre jokes about the place before we arrived. Apparently it was close to the site of a recent double shooting and the area was being described as 'rough'.

I didn't have a clue where we were headed, but when we arrived the surroundings were bohemian renovationist rather than dilapidated.

You could tell quite a lot from the mainly well-heeled cars parked along both sides of the street. If it had been in London I wouldn't give it a particularly high 'alert' status.

We stepped into an 'in-crowdish' kind of place which served micro-brewed beers and food of the "foie-gras ice cream on single stick of toast starters" variety.

When we left, a couple of us decided it was safe enough to figure out how to walk home by the light of a fairly full moon.

the apoteket won't serve expresso

Tuesday's excursion from the Temporary Apartment was to a nearby small cafe called the Apoteket.

If I'd been in Holland I'd have thought twice before going to a coffee shop with this type of name, but we were elsewhere and the inside seemed fairly snug with plenty of crowded tables and people chatting.

Our well behaved mixed nationality group were handed English menus and we soon picked items to eat, but in some cases with requests for modifications. This was quite interesting, because there was a fairly stern 'No' from the waitress who was pretty keen to keep things orderly and in line with the menu's serving suggestions.

I smiled when this occured with the later coffees also; I'd asked for an expresso but it was explained that they had coffee - regular coffee - with or without milk.

OK.

I get lost and then blackberry latitude saves the day

A short walk from the Temporary Apartment today, after I'd returned from a meeting across town.

It was one of those occasions where I'd given the address to a taxi driver and had a feeling that I might be being taken in the wrong direction. Its like the London equivalent of Finsbury Park and Finsbury Square.

I'm fairly used to these little misunderstandings in certain foreign taxis and have some interesting reference journeys as well as improved renegotiation skills.

There's the time we were around Istanbul with a clearly lost taxi driver and improvised a Sat Nav on a laptop to find our location and the direction. That was before his taxi broke down on the bridge into Asia and we had to explain what we were doing to some armed soldiers.

Or the time in Riyadh when the taxi driver just kept saying 'Yes' but clearly didn't understand anything we were saying let alone knowing the way to the American Express office.

How things move on; on this occasion I could simply switch on my Blackberry, flip to Google Maps, show where we were and then point to the place I was supposed to be heading.

"Ah", said the taxi driver, with his own two separate sat-nav systems (one with the taxi system and another built into the Merc) as he recognised the location from my finger pointing, whilst being unable to recognise it from my handwritten address(kerching?).

I really should do something about my handwriting.

Sent from a handheld device.

are chocolate frogs endangered species?

I tried bringing some of those chocolate frogs back to the UK, but the Belgian 70% cocoa chocolate and the Brazilian liqueur filling seems to be too much for some people.

These are the only survivors from a box originally containing a dozen.

small guide for discerning cup-cakers

I've tested cup cakes in Magnolia's on Bleeker and also Primrose's in Covent Garden and now I'm starting to sense the march of American variants throughout the United Kingdom. I gather Marks and Spencer is about to start stocking the American type.

I thought it useful to publish a definitive guide before we all forget what British cup-cakes were like.

My view is illustrated above.

The British cup-cake was really a 'fairy-cake' made from victoria sponge with a dab of water based icing and something on top. A high sponge to icing ratio.

Chocolate cup-cakes were a factory made flat-top usually of chocolate, lemon or orange and undecorated. Crunchy hard icing edges.

Children's parties would feature Angel cakes, often partially made by the children, where the top of the cake was cut off, divided in two and then fashoned into wings, stuck on with butter icing.

And now - Thunk - the American variant.

Equal cake to icing ratio. Luminous colors(sp). Much topping to augment the icing part. Extended waistline because they are usually baked in American muffin cases rather than the smaller (UK) cup-cake sized holders.

I sense an invasion.

And in a related confession, I do like Cinnabon (in small quantities), which is another invader which used to only be available in the USA but has stealthily crept into Britain.

cover up

Back in the UK.

Zoe has sent the updated cover to the publishers.

I really need to spend some time reviewing the proof this weekend.

a mermaid, a shiny city and a low star

Three small marvels in one day.

The first, in the morning at the Temporary Apartment, is the faint singing sound that comes from part of the room. A high-pitched modulation which I can't quite locate. I've decided to consider it to be the song from a not-too-distant mermaid.

The second, in the early evening, slipping through clear skies over London at 500 miles per hour, banking to see all of London spread before me and a feeling that I could hold the whole golden glittering city in the palm of my hand.

The third, as I headed home and looked to the now inky sky, was a bright extra star, sparkling low and near. The space station shining as the brightest object just 200 miles above and speeding across the night.

sent from a handheld device

watching Gefjun plough a legendary field

I took a short walk from the Temporary Apartment today, following the footsteps of Ragnarsdrápa, which tells of when Gylfi promised Gefjun all the territory she could plough in a single night.

The story runs that she turned her four sons into oxen, and the land they ploughed out of the earth was then thrown into the sea and became a big new island- the one my Temporary Aprtment is on. The hole created where the land had been previously became a great lake called Lögrinn.

I've just been walking across part of the island to where the great fountain depicts the story, showing Gefjun at work. There's an inscription something like "Ærr ertu, Loki, ok örviti, er þú fær þér Gefjun at gremi, því at aldar örlög hygg ek, at hon öll of viti jafngörla sem ek. (Watch out - Loki, you'd be mad to mess with Gefjun - she'll set the fate of all of us)

sent from a handheld device

i discover the shop has an intrinsic field subtractor

Laying here in the Temporary Apartment, I'd almost decided that it was time to stop writing about The Nearby Shop That Never Opens.

That was before I realized the awful truth. I think the shop has some sort of intrinsic field subtractor playing with reality.

Here's today's example. I walked to the shop and examined the doors.

Lights off at peak time, all closed, so no surprises.

But what was strange was that behind the glass of the doors I could see new boxes upon boxes of pristine brightly coloured flowers. Tulips, daffodils and similar varieties. The kind that people would want to buy and put into Temporary Apartments. These flowers were completely blocking the doors making it even more difficult to get in.

Of course, the shop was still closed in any case.

And then, as I was about to walk away, I nearly froze in my tracks.

I'd inadvertently glanced towards the corner where I'd originally discovered the chocolate frogs. I didn't previously explain, but there were industrial quantities of these shiny frogs in boxes piled to the ceiling. Different brands and different flavours. Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, liqueurs and fruit fillings. An impossibly inedible large quantity.

But this is the strange part. In two or three days, they have all gone. Who consumes such quantities of chocolate frog? What demographic? How can there be such a quantity of purchases from a store which is mainly closed?

It makes no sense unless an alien force is at work.

I will wait until tomorrow to see whether an intrinsic field subtractor has similarly affected the tulips.

sent from a handheld device

I am visited at the Temporary Apartment by an out of town friend

The Temporary Apartment was extremely useful today, when I received an email from a friend in a nearby country who said he could pop over for dinner this evening.

He lives around an hour from here and arranged his schedule to be able to arrive at my temporary front door this evening at around 19:30.

We then headed to a nearby restaurant advertising Australian Cuisine, and selected a light supper whilst we swapped stories from our recent exploits. He had even noticed TNSTNO without any prompting from me and commented that he knew this type of shop had certain reputations.

I offered him a chocolate frog before he picked up his car to start the car and ferry ride back to his own home.

sent from a handheld device

back in the Temporary Apartment

A pretty smooth run back to the Temporary Apartment, with renewed clothes and some supplies based upon last week's learnings.

I'm pretty sure I'll need to find a way into The Nearby Shop That Never Opens again this week, but I smiled as I arrived to see it at security level 4 in total darkness.

It seemed slightly loopy to have brought certain supplies from Sainsbury's in the UK, but now I think I was right.

sent from a handheld device

airport ipod tunes for Sunday

Listening to my iPod at the airport.

Hey, remember the time when I found a human tooth down on Delancey? Hey, remember that time we decided to kiss anywhere except the mouth? Hey, remember that time when my favorite colors were pink and green? Hey, remember that month when I only ate boxes of tangerines? So cheap and jooo-cy.

Tangerines.

Hey, remember that time when I would only read Shakespeare? Hey, remember that other time when I would only read the backs of cereal boxes? Hey, remember that time I tried to save a pigeon with a broken wing? A street cat got him by morning and I had to bury pieces of his body in my building's playground. I thought I was going to be sick.

I thought I was going to be sick.

Hey, remember that time when I would only smoke Parliaments? Hey, remember that time when I would only smoke Marlboros? Hey, remember that time when I would only smoke Camels? Hey, remember that time when I was broke. I didn't care I just bummed from my friends.

Bum, bum, bum, bum, bum...

Hey, remember that time when you OD-ed? Hey, remember that other time when you OD-ed for the second time? Well, in the waiting room, while waiting for news of you, I hallucinated I could read your mind. And I was on a lot of stuff too, but what I saw, man, I tell you it was

freaky, freaky.

Thanks Regina.