Sunday, August 29

things that are different pill-less

For a few weeks, while the cellmate was still away on holiday, I gave up the bliss pills, reasoning I must surely be cured by now. Soon I began to notice a few changes, not all for the worse. It all balances up.

I watched the DVD of No Country For Old Men. I kept holding my breath with the tension. Films haven't been this good in ages.

Next, I was reading a novel about three effed up flatmates. One of them killed himself, and I howled my eyes out. Must have been a well-written book.

I was watching a two-hour Santana concert on TV. I always love the guy, but this was extra heavenly music. I even managed to overlook his meathead hip hop singers with their inane toilet-squat loping. Why isn't all music this good?

One night I was watching an episode of The Street, the UK drama series set in working-class Manchester. I was moved to tears, and I realised that working class life isn't always as idyllic as people think. The standard of TV drama seems to have improved recently.

Pill-less life was going well, but everything has to balance up. There was another pill-free experience to come. I had an invite to the opening of an art exhibition. The artist is one of the deifheid collective. As I arrived outside the glass-walled venue, I could see the whole assemblage. My heart sank. As I turned to go back home, unfortunately a deifheid spotted me through the glass. I walked round the corner and tried to think straight. Then I had to grit my teeth and walk right into the midst of it. And it was even worse than I expected. If only I had been on bliss pills, it might have been half bearable.

That was when I realised I had to get back on the pills ASAP. Thank goodness they kicked in a few days later, before the deifheid dinner, so I was able to spend the evening blissfully under the table.


  1. Albert? Well done for giving up the chemical cosh! Too bad you started up again. Why don't you just get drunk at the deifheid dos? It works for me. After a while they'll probably stop asking you. Also, believing in anything you think is a big mistake. Hope this helps. Hotboy

  2. You're right hotters, it would be a mistake to believe in anything you think.

    Actually, getting drunk would be just as helpful, but bliss pills don't give you a hangover, and the taxpayer picks up the tab, so to speak. Plus, the chestnut size brain is less work to carry about.

  3. Albert? I'm sure you know best, but why don't you get valium, which you can take as the occasion arises. Someone I know died of an exploding brain from taking that Prozac crap. Well, her brain exploded anyway. If you get into the valium, you could send me ten percent off the top! Hotboy

  4. I say!

    A cold shower at 6am is the only medication I believe in, followed by a sprint down the road aux naturel, apart from MGTs of course.

    MM III

  5. Hotters, I still have some valium lying around, so I could do a pilot study of your idea. Though the exploding brain might be a good way to go, don't you think?

    Mingers. I used to do the cold showers, before the bliss pills made me too apathetic to bother.

  6. Albert? You don't get the smack with the exploding brain. Pain beyond belief! A valium every now and again would be quite nice. Stick to the other stuff and send the valium to the hut! Hotboy

  7. I had forgotten that the main object of dying was to get free smack.