Friday, September 30, 2005

Drink is bad, m'kay?

The cracks in the pavement seem bigger, it's more than hard work to correctly place one leg in front of the other. It's strangely warm and everything is pretty hazy, I put on a jacket for good measure. I overheat within five minutes and take a few seconds to slowly sip my ice cold (pre-prepared) bottle of water. People are looking, their eyes are drawn to the scene as I make my way down the hill. Like a motorway crash site, they try passing by but can't help but glance over. Why is everyone moving so quickly? SHIT, didn't see that bus - I was concentrating too hard on the kerb in front of me. Time has reversed, almost six hours in total. I'm spinning on the dancefloor with sweat starting to pour from pretty much everywhere, but a huge smile remains on my face... how can you beat this? FUCK, that taxi came out of nowhere. The horn blasts. I feel as though I can walk through people, I attempt it, but they always get out of the way. My head is pounding, but I'm just gliding along towards the office. I'm gasping for water but my trusty bottle has been drained, the sickly sweet taste appears. Damn alco-pops. Get to my desk, assume the "I'm working, honest" position and patiently wait for lunch.


At 3:30 pm, Blogger Chris Cope thought it was best to say...

Blurgh. Sugary hangover. Almost as bad as being hungover on light beer.


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