bonzo

air of fog and hair of the dog, mind of grog and thoughts that bog. down goes the moon as the early birds croon, head and heart swoon as i awake before noon... anyway. why is it that when i drink heavily there is no sign of hangover the next day, but if one partakes of just one beverage, it is nigh impossible to awake and my cranial dome does ache? perhaps it is simply due to the fact that ones company consisted of corporate coworkers rather than passionate berserkers. at least the russian couple across the way have ceased their marital strife for at least one day. they have such a kick-ass collection of esoteric jazz-fusion tunes that i leave my window open hoping the acerbic cyrillic screams shall ever be followed by the stuff of former soviet hepcat dreams. oh well, 'tis such a perfect day for childish play that one must be on his way...