Topping Up - 28 November/13 December 2003 / part 1
Sirrah,
twenty one, twenty three, me and you, you and me. The Sky. The Sea. The clouds are loud,
and in a crowd. Dead house. And now for the shipping forecast, before we join the weird
surface. Kidney stream. Bint. On a tripod, a glove. Wash the glove, bacon. Annex the coast
t' toaster. Wish it down with tea from't china c'up. Had Pentangle on, now it's a Platipus
comp. (vol. 3). Iffy, iffy, let's get squiffy. Put it yon side of temptation. Cider
sensation. And now... Moo, belch, of course, it's, (phonetic equivalent of), (speeded-up,
farted-out, slowed-down), Meditive. U Wot? Fish issues, percolate. Horlics horticulture.
* Mr. Gall. (The). Yo-Ho. The oven is on, ready for the bread, and maybe a fish-cake
if you are lucky. But Samuel Beckett has 'et it in mirth. Zgg. Either you die eating it, or
you die anyway, so what the fucking fuck? Friggate. Toot huns. How much does that weigh?
You fart, baa, stood. C'unt. W'allop. Andromeda. Clocks and dials. Fussy foot, fuzzy feet.
Listening to Kosheen presents Drum 'n' Bass Reborn. Or another angry toenail. Or the
dartford tunnel. Was it? External torment versus internal torment. One of it's legs is both
the same. How do you know that? Fag doubt.
The Xmas drugs fund is very healthy indeed and I'm looking forward to it this year 'cos I've got a plan. My ambition is to get as many drugs as I can together and then get totally off my face for as long as I can. Oh there's nothing new in that then is there? Got 2g's of charlie and an OZ of skunk coming, someone should be bringing a bit of white widow from Holland, just need to find some good billy and I'm sorted. Get loads of booze in and I might just lock myself away, take the lot and report on the consequences. Bentley Rhythm Ace. His wife was chewing the carpet. I'm taking it wherever it's leading me, down the garden path as usual. Gotta feel it in yer gut, get up and move yer butt. What's the difference between a duck? Crab. Kumquat may. Nag Nag Nag. Throbbing Gristle 20 Jazz Funk Greats. Got 'hurry-up' sorted, 1/4oz of billie coming. Had a really harrowing experience and it's been a fucking strange/unreal roller-coaster ride recently and X-Marse is gonna be traumatic, so to reduce turbulance I'm gonna get off me map! And Ruth can eat twat on toast. A boasting genré I'm not proud of but will get me by. Proudfoot by + by.
