I’d forgotten how sharp those razors are. They are really sharp! Sharp like, well, razors.. So here I am, the human kebab, ’cause I’m not one of those suckers sticking toilet paper to my face. Toilet paper is for the ass.
Had an ok weekend. The weather is rather strange at the moment, so I’m sniffing like a wall street junior on coke. Saturday I found my favourite café closed again, without any note on the door. They know I’ll be there, so the next time I see them I’ll demand free coffee or – if the coffee isn’t ready – sex.
I ended up across the street, and I wrote for three hours in the shadow. By that time my limbs were frozen from the inside, snot running down into my cup, and my hand-writing looked like a demented man’s last words.
Later on I was out with some friends at Dattera’s, which is very popular, meaning the bathroom queue is half a mile. So I do my little tricks, I run over to another place and piss there. It’s called Bob’s. And even though people aren’t aware of it, Bob’s is actually a gay place. This time I was picked on coming in the door.
– Hey! Aren’t you handsome?
– That I am!
Totally ignoring everyone, since the only reason why I place my earthly body in such peril, is that there is never any queue to the bathroom. This has led me to believe that gay people never take a piss. Which is fine by me, since I do, and I really need to.
Sunday was pure wreckage. I had a 200g cheeseburger with fries, and I watched Colombus. There’s something soothing about watching old explorer movies. You can just sit back and catch the ride. Not like modern day cinema.