non sequiturzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..!

I have to keep moving, through the rain-soaked streets of another Saturday night, weave past guys with their hair spiked and their collars up inspecting each others' car stereos... somewhere in the distance a fight is breaking out and a small boy in a three piece suit and bright red rubber gumboots is playing on the busy street corner next to me: pressing in the pedestrian lights to stop the traffic and giggling at his new found powers.


My head is a muddle; floating through days on a headache cloud... the little yellow pills with the muscle relaxant and the codeine... claws of jagged pain working their way up the back of my neck to take hold of the wet rope of muscle behind my left eye and sqeeze till I feel my stomach flip and bile rise up into my throat... the little blue and white pills, a strong anti-inflammatory... I can always tell a migraine, it always manifests itself as a hard little knot of pressure in the centre of my forehead and spreads out around my eyes, spilling into my temples. When the throbbing reaches my temples, that's when the world gets greyed out... the oval shaped off-white pills, the ones that dilate the blood vessels in your brain and make you feel very dizzy, swirling.


Sitting smoking on my lunch break at work talking to Sam, it is one of those maudlin conversations which always makes it difficult to step back into the classroom and dodge the shit-slinging with a smile. There is a small uncomfortable pause and she offers me a valium to take the edge off. Everywhere I look at work I see people leaning on sedatives and anti-depressants. I like my coffee strong, black, no sugar and sometimes when the pain in my head won't quit I chew three or four paracetamol tablets into a acrid bitter pulp and wash it down with hot expresso... on occasion the gag reflex kicks in and I nearly choke forcing it down; the last thing I would want is to spit up hot coffee on the staff room floor.


Almost every car in my street has a Christian bumper sticker on their car... 'God created Adam and Eve, Not Adam and Steve'


Some headaches are barely even there, you only feel it when interacting with others... some kind of dislocated internalised hum fed through you in waves of dull throbbing sealing you off from the rest of the world... sitting at an outside table in the only cafe open after-hours in Boxhill watching the small-time drug dealers outside the video game arcade strutting. Sip of coffee, sucking on a cigarette and reading a trashy book about L.A.P.D officers on the verge of a nervous breakdown.