wilderness, wilde, wildman
now i'm back in the CM1, civilisedness has become undone
while it may appear that from my appearance i am feral, no wilde, a wilderness dresser – a wildman? – last night in the pub i was the very oscar of cheekiness. we bantered and frolicked, conscious unconscious, i cheated the bar out of a round of drinks, just like my ancestors would have done.
i have said it before on this blog – the only time i'm drink–and–drug–free is when i get my drink and drugs for free – and now i am finally getting to live according to mantra. while nabokov joined me in the pub, as a villain, he was in my pocket, and less terrible than the dark and smoky truth.
farewell, i journey back from essex, the wilderness, a wilde, a wildman.