"Fear and loathing in Göteborg" Lilla Lordag..typ

Hunter S Thompson wrote a great book which endeered pretty much everyone who read it to try and buy some illegal substance including, if memory serves me correctly, an adrenalin gland from a human to nibble on.
Tog wash I say, should finish up your old booze, mix with some old morfin based cough mixture and head downtown on a wednesday evening with a fever and a boozing date lined up.

The new hunting ground was ironically the Peacock, the only bird whose name was originally changed from peecock due to the whole embarrassement derived by Von Linne and his Supernerd book of latin names for all the flowers...only in Sweden would someone have the time and make the effort to ensure every species of foilage had a latin name..*suck* hembränt was Vons passtime!

To cut a short story long, or vice versa the conversation ended on a high note to the benefits of LSD together with music from the 70's or earlier. I mean, it just wouldn't be the same dropping a stamp to Robin Williams or Beyonce and watching Cribs on MTV.
There's something rustic and very genuine regarding the substance and texture of film from the 70's, once again Led Zepp, the Doors, the Who always producing the nostalga trip.

Talking of which, I used to work doing some panel beating work with a mate in Uppsala, we used to mix up the bonding fluids and gels and start work everyday by kicking off with "Riders on the Storm" and end on ironically , "The End". I have to admit those chemicals work well on both the panels on the car and the inside of the cranium..Days seemed to fly by without too much being done and memory loss was very common.There was only one tape and it simply got turned over again and again, one would stop the sanders and admire the lyrical text and music of Mr Morrison, believing of course the conspiracy theory about him living in the jungle, his body never recovered and the almost Da Vinci Code mention of Dr Mojo, who declared his dead and wrote his death certificate. Please add chemical A to bonding chemical B, put your head between your buttocks and kiss your arse goodbye....

Now you may think that despite the fact that I write about illegal substances and own Howard Marks "Dope Storys" Im a big fan. Well, actually not, I don't do it and I don't condone it either.However, sometimes the urge to rewind the tape back over 20 years to the "experimental era" of my lifetime can make me, as they say in Sweden, "sugen"..Dammit, Kashmir running in the background..I mean, even Sherlock Holmes liked his Opium..

Anyway, I digress.Good night..great night, up to 0500 in the morning,Carpe Diem indeed, seize something anyway, perhaps the alarm clock.Wine, wine, more wine, more zepp, good times, appreciation and the horrible feeling that soon it would be grown up thursday and back to feeling sickly with the added bonus of a hangover.
It dawned on me that the reality time of single life equation begins at 2300 and ends 0500 everyday.Thats where the difference is, where those harmonic demonics are tucked up snug as a bug, the lowest form come out to play and suck off the life line of lonelyness, like the text in a song says, "they're drinking a drink called lonleyness"..

bring it on, to qoute a T*, "today has turned out a good day"

áyé