05 July 2005

For God’s sake, shut up. My Head hurts

I used to live by the maxim that while alcohol does kill brain cells, it only kills the weak ones. In my youth, this process of natural selection worked well, making me the most intellectually feared client of the trans-Atlantic mental health system. Now, years later, I am paying the price.

The few remaining synapses, weakened by cold and hunger, are brutally forced to yield the pitifully inadequate sanctuary of sleep, and totter unsteadily on their ganglia to the pain mines of the Hangover Gulag.

I feel for them, I really do. Innocent victims in the war on sobriety, they suffer through no fault of their own.

But rules are rules, and my liver has been naughty.

It must be punished.


And that's the way I likes it.