It's a cold winters morning. I'm looking outside at the cold icey blue sky, and the tinges of ice adorning the green of the gardens. It looks quite beautiful actually.
I'm lying quarter wrapped in a think blue duvet, wearing a metal t-shirt and three quarter length adidas bottoms which I slept in last night on the green leather sofa downstairs after staying up a fair percentage of the night watching Batman, and reading the entire Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Both I found to be highly enjoyable. A good means of escapism.
I am far too lazy to try tying the pair of them together using a series of clever metaphors. They were entertaining respectfully for the magnificent portrayal of a lunatic by Jack Nicholson, a role he plays with a consummate natural flair. The other was clever for the use of magical language in order to glamourise a felonious mescaline fuelled drug rampage in Las Vegas.
I particuarly liked the parts about the lizards and pterodactyls in the bar, where he muses that seeing a hick on 200ft high screen in Las Vegas is worse than seeing 'your dead grandmother crawl up your leg with a knife between her teeth' and the majority of the action relating to Raoul's attourney was pretty hilarous stuff.
I've finished my weetabix, now I'm going to finish off the Tao te ching, and then have a shower. Taoism will hopefully make me feel more centred as when 12 o clock comes I will undoubtedly be aggravated as I'm beseiged with twats for the adjacent ten hours.
Boo.
-Michael
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