It's raining when I arrive, hot close drizzle. Stare out of the cab window; it's not the city I remember, and it is. Gives me a tight sick sort of feeling, like the beginnings of a hangover
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I don't want to sleep in his bed, so I pass out on the sofa for a while. When I wake up, I'm already sweating more than the cool air of the room would cause, and there's a shake in my hands
( ... )
Pretty sure I've got nothing left to throw up; just bringing up thin foaming yellow bile now. Fucking disgusting.
Wish there was a tv here. There's a radio, but it's stuck on some country music channel. Never realised before just how many country songs are about whiskey.
Something wrong with it, too, because it keeps turning itself back on. Swear I turned it off again a few minutes ago, but now there's some chirpy girl singing that:
'Cause I don't need Jose, believe me, honey, I'm ok. Jack Daniels or Jim Beam ain't gonna pull me through. You wasted my time, my heart and my mind too: I ain't wastin' good whiskey on you.
Growl and turn it off again. Hardly turned round when it fucking starts up again:
Yeah when I go over yonder I will see my mother My sister and my father But my brother is going to hell.
...Starting to think that he must've been driven to suicide by a fucking possessed radio. Don't need a doctor, Al, I need a fucking priest.
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Wish there was a tv here. There's a radio, but it's stuck on some country music channel. Never realised before just how many country songs are about whiskey.
Something wrong with it, too, because it keeps turning itself back on. Swear I turned it off again a few minutes ago, but now there's some chirpy girl singing that:
'Cause I don't need Jose, believe me, honey, I'm ok.
Jack Daniels or Jim Beam ain't gonna pull me through.
You wasted my time, my heart and my mind too:
I ain't wastin' good whiskey on you.
Growl and turn it off again. Hardly turned round when it fucking starts up again:
Yeah when I go over yonder
I will see my mother
My sister and my father
But my brother is going to hell.
...Starting to think that he must've been driven to suicide by a fucking possessed radio. Don't need a doctor, Al, I need a fucking priest.
Oh yes I loved him but I won't miss him ( ... )
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