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Wednesday, February 23, 2005

farewell doctor. no more bats.

The world is poorer for the loss of Hunter S. Thompson. The original gonzo, the link between Hemmingway and Kerouac. Despite his verified arsehole-ness, despite his temper and mood swings, he won friends and admirers across the board.

As a fitting tribute, here is his eulogy of Nixon.
[http://www.counterpunch.org/thompson02212005.html]

Right about now, he's re aquanting himself with a Samoan lawyer, and getting ready to road trip across the clouds, tripping on Jesus juice and angel dust.

why did she flirt with me if she already has a partner?

Some people are greedy.

As if its not enough to have a partner (note that she didn't use the word boyfriend), must chicks go round messing with a little boy's mind and soul?

There i am monday, after the slightly sweet agony of spending all sunday on how to approach, not say the wrong thing. No answer on the phone. No reply to the email. I have no nails left. But she saw my chewed fingernails as we held hands drunkenly.....

Tuesday is actually a Monday in disguise, and right in the middle of some hectic stuff at work, comes an email. The message is hidden away in a memo attachment. A bad sign. "Blah blah i have a partner blah blah he's pissed at me for what i did blah blah never want to see oyu again. Love, Mas"

The weirdest thing - just before the flirting started, she asked some of her friends at the table about me, slightly below the audio level they thought i could hear. "Nah, he's cool" "I've been to his house" "I like his hair".

Very surreal.