A bad cold clubbed me a few days ago and I started a cocktail of echnacea (spelling? oh well), golden-seal, vitamin c, zinc, rum, alkanized coca leaves, trance music, and irony to counteract it. So far this elixir is working, my only symptom is a sore throat that makes my voice sound like George Burns.
A friend from high school is back in town and wants me to come into his tattoo shop to get some work done. I do not have any tattoos at this time, something always seems to arise to take away my time or money when I have plans to get one. I do have a a tongue piercing that a pot-bellied biker named "Butch" did many years ago in celebration of my 18th birthday. How about you?
This friend spells his name as Airik. Airik is one of those people who does whatever pops into their head in each moment with absolutely no thought to the consequences. He is the only person to have ever stolen a girlfriend from me. Since then I have stolen plenty but not been on the receiving end of such action. Little things like that build walls in your mind that you never let people cross again.
The girl he stole was Oddra, who was my first kiss. Oddra owned a million candles. Oddra looked like Claire Danes. Oddra wore bright non-matching clothes but pulled them off. Oddra now lives in Chicago and acts in zombie movies. Chicago is a city like a cold old lover full of rudeness and jazz. One day I will see the city again, or the girl.
Sickness always makes me nostalgic. I am off for my next dose of medicine. In honor of scratchy cold voices I leave you with a video by a poster boy for them, the incomparable Tom Waits -
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