# just ate the best curry had in a while feel like a happy stuffed pig. or maybe orinoco the womble after they've raided the larder. rubbing my belly with supreme satisfied fatness. super tasty delicate spices and a paratha that almost made me weep. like henry says sometimes you get a break. saw a vertical light in my room last night that i took as a gap in the /current existential darkness of my shoulder pain. got so bad at one point i puked - then felt so utterly exhausted i must of collapsed into some of the more unusual intense and colourful imagination-scapes had in a while -think i've been here before. first off i was in a dusty room belonging to a 70's italian b-movie actor who did ir own stunts. we were reviewing one of ir old flicks and turned to ir with a look of 'wow - a near hit from that car. amazing' and ey stared back at me with pride. ey was old fat and bald now - as am i - and there was a sudden look of anger as ey stared a the instant machine coffee and oaty biscuit in my hand "where's my biscuit" ey demanded - but then suddenly took ir own biscuit and coffee off the shelf and began eating them with a smile. a real oddball next i was in the old labyrinthine house of an old friend - only heavily modified and super encrusted with all manner of bizarre cultural minutae - film posters a bridge overlooking a tropical waterfall extensive provision for visiting actors - every surface overflowing with theatrical memorabilia and obscure curios people milled around everywhere engaged in serious conversations about tradecraft while i wondered around the house in a daze feeling distinctly outside this particular scene - not exactly outright alienated but certainly estranged from whatever was happening - one of those 'not entirely sure what the exact delio is' kinda deals eventually i ended up in the basement having to fix the generator which was partially flooded with dirty water next up was dark in the sense there was the corpse-ghost of a dead mother hiding in a shit down a long corridor of overgrown vines they was called mother and as i approached the shit at the behest of the other villagers i called out "mother.." with mild rising error and mother in this case was a seven foot skeletal widow with a white hood half covering ir bony face as they arose from ir death bed they spoke to me in calm human tones and i helped ir up and they appeared grateful for my courage and instead of being full of wraith simply floated through the open door and away into the misty morning it was well creepy yet tinged with warm mystery next was a mall in which a worker pouring out brightly coloured flavoured ice cream was himself mounted in a gold frame and covered in a series of tubes through which the various flavors shot through with amazing technical complexity and effectiveness the overall effect was of las vegas style hyperreality there was even a glowing metallic fog condensing around ir as ey worked ir ice cream vending magic with ir mirrored wraparound shades reflecting the sprawing mall crowds after all that i awoke knackered and crawled out of bed for a large horse wizz **// later on** another night of intense pain **// 21:36** in which it seems entirely possible to die from feeling uncomfortable i tossed turned fretted and cried out so many times last night i was in an existential blender filled with awkwardly shaped rocks. this entire flat has the kind of sucking cold associated with vampires - one's entire body feels drained of essential energy. it's the kind of cold one gets in seemingly abandoned crypts and other generally inhospitable non places of the dead earth - or that gaping psychic sinkhole london the entire place must have been thrown up during the 70s using the cheapest possible materials. i tell you dear fellow republic traveller it's a job not to give up just stay in bed and quietly die // republic of bob