Catching Flies.

So I’m sitting in the day unit getting my monthly Intragram treatment which starts at 9:30am and goes until 4:30 – 5:00 in the day unit of the hospital.
This way I get to go home to my sleep in my own bed and spoon with my pillow. I’m back again for the day tomorrow.

Then to the B.M.X. track to live kind of normally.

Charles Bukowski, (a writer who was alcoholic, wrote about realism and was part of the beat movement, a very brutal and gritty writer), spent a lot of time at the track.
(although he would go to a betting track). (a slightly different environment, it’s definitely a more wholesome environment at the b.m.x. track).

My family had a few race horses as I grew up we had them stabled at the Gold Coast Turf Club.
I remember feeding one of our horses, I would have been 8 – 9 and I was wearing a white T shirt.

I remember it so vividly because one of our horses sneezed point blank on me and my white T shirt had green polka dots instantly.
I groaned and my Dad laughed at me, I was covered in horse snot.


Anyway, I fell asleep in my chair in the day unit while getting my Intragram. (probably with my mouth open).
I woke and I was on my last bottle late in the afternoon. Brilliant!
It was just like flying.
Sort of…
Without the straight scotch and glass of water.