Hanging

Ever Dearest Diary,

I am feeling, reeling, from the descent into relative sobriety. Hanging. Man, I over-did it yesterday, and must busk in the morning. I remember getting my old job back last night, gurning at the bar. Really quite mashed.

Before that we watched Borat. It was hilarious. I had to give my copy of the film away as I watched it too much. I haven't seen that film in ages. It always makes me laugh. The reason Larry and I found it so funny was because we've met people actually like that, from the east.

I recall Larry reading me a poem his mother had written in 2007. It was amazing. Incredible. The piece was simply called "Green" and concerned the lush fecundity of the forest flora. Beautiful. Larry is most definately a 'chip off the old block' being as gifted a poet as his old dear."

I was really loved-up yesterday and posted a quite kinky quote or two from the Oxford Reference Library regarding groins, loins, and erectile dysfunction, on the tutor group forum. Oops. It wasn't deleted at least, so it couldn't have been that bad.

Man, I was so twatted yesterday. I must eat something, all I have is cheese and tomato or cheese and onion toasted sandwiches. I ate all the meat and fish yesterday. Gulliver the fiddler can't make this weekends gig. I took Larry's steel-string guitar to the pub yesterday, and for the first time in ages, I managed to flag and flail playing it, so inebriated was I. This moment I have some of the 'special stuff' staring at me. I cannot face drinking it, or the eighth degree cyder I mixed it with. I must put something in my stomach. All I can smell is the remnants of eating a fish supper before going out. That and my socks, which hum-ding. Jesus. What a shit state I am in right now. Man!

I remember being at the bar and talking about slavery with some would-be historian. Yes. The man, while friendly, was utterly misguided as to why the abolition came about. It was the usual nonsense he spouted. I took great pleasure in enlightening the amateur historian. It kinda went like this...

Man: "England (The United Kingdom of Great Britain) was the first country to ban slavery."

Max: "No it wasn't. France was. But then Napoleon Bonaparte legalised it again, the guillotine ran for days in places like New Caledonia."

Man: "I didn't know that."

Max: "Of course. You are from this country, and haven't lived in France for years, like I have. History is another country." [...]

Man: "The reason they banned slavery is because of our moral superiority."

Max: "No it wasn't. It was to do with the invention of the spinning-mule. The vast amounts of labour were no longer needed. It only became illegal to own a slave in 1999, here in [Great] Britain."

Much argument ensued, but we agreed to disagree. The man, like so many amateur historians is not very well read, hath his blinkers on, and is conditioned by bloody television. I only wish more people read books, especially those concerning history and the arts. Though I respect scientists, I am most definitely 'of the arts world'.

I remember going into another pub where two old guys played "Old Joe Clarke" on two mandolins. I sat in on guitar, and played along. We were joined by a double-bassist. Despite being mashed on all manner of concoctions, smoked out, drunk as can be, I still managed to keep it together on guitar. Picking out the melody in the relatively unfamiliar key of D. I could have gone to that gig, but decided against it. In the interests of social misconduct. I was so fcuked yesterday. You have no idea...

Maximus Fleximus.