Dear Schlong...

[weedguru_animal]

Ciao Schlong,

I would say thanks for your letter but as it contained a serious slur on my blood, as always, I will refrain from such unwarranted gratitude...heathen is eating, or rather, struggling to eat, a turkish kebab savaged by special chilli paste...I had not wanted to go out again, when she returned home after work, but she made me feel guilty enough to venture back out in The World of King Street...I hate that strip of tacky woman flesh clubs and sweet smelling but dirty souled tramps. Especially if I am at all stoned. Drunk, I take great pride in striding through the vermin ocean wearing my pyjamas...but the weed, rather than fill me confidence, adds sensitivity to my perceptions of the perceptions of others...It turns out that I had mistakenly translated 'please, just make sure you don't get me anything spicy' as 'make sure you get me something spicy'...even going so far as to ask the mean eyed Turk for the hottest sauce he has on site...

This flat stinks of an offensive cocktail of dog piss, dog shit, human shit...roach shit, fly shit, roach carcasses...but if I dim the lights, and pick the right kind of music, drink a little vodka, smoke a little bud, I can feel almost comfortable, but at all other times, I am on edge...tension stripping even the suggestion of peace from my nervous system. Open the cupboard and the filth runs for cover, into invisible doors in the walls and bricks...Honestly, I saw less cockroaches in India than I have seen here over the last 5 months...Fuck...its been that long eh, Chink???? High time I moved, and its coming...within the next 4 weeks. Into a two bedroom flat out of the city, but near a tram line which will enable me a direct route to work.

heathen is heading home in August. Her mother is getting married. And she hasn't been happy here for a while...Not something I wish to dive into now...as I am relaxed and talking of stress is only going to create stress...Rat is now running around the room, looking for an escape route, and I don't blame him. He keeps taking different objects, in his teeth, towards the door, like a lead character in an adventure game, stuck in a room, and cycling through every item in his inventory, to open a lock...Nothing works, though. The fucker is stuck here...but I will take him out for a decent walk and play tomorrow afternoon, maybe meet the Chinaman Robby, who has three poodles...

I was just checking the table, nervously excited by the position of Bobby Robson's beleaguered warriors...the reports suggested that the best player in black and white had been peter Beardsley. It seems that you will get done by Villa, Hull and Sunderland will also likely lose...but you have a chance, at least. As Hull will definitely capitulate. No doubt whatsoever about that...

send word,
until which,
I remain,
suffering from idolatry of the long Dead,
but resolute,
love,
Captain Spalding...