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Alrighty there now folks, how the devil are ya? Me, I’ve got a hangover I have.

‘Lonely blue boy is my name’ was the title of a song I saw performed last night for the curious amongst y’all.

I got some snuff from a garage yesterday, good stuff as well. I thought they only done it in Scandinavia but alas it’s not so. It’s ‘frost’ flavoured too, the direct equivalent of your menthol fags if you like.

I went for student town in the end, a tame 4 mile stroll from base camp. Nae bother for a seasoned pro like me sen, though I should maybe mention that my feet are starting to look like they were used as stunt doubles in ‘Passion of the Christ’. I was headed for a bar I liked the sound of called ‘Hole in the wall’.

My route had been worked so that I went back over Congress Avenue bridge again and timed it perfectly to arrive for round 2 of bat attack. Now here is the point that I admit my numbers were slightly off in my last report, by about a factor of 75. Where’s rainman (Jimbo Tierney) when you need him? There were actually 750,000 of them and this figure doubles to 1.5 mil in mid-summer when the bat-mams have given birth.

I passed an art-house cinema on the way which was showing Gomorrah in about 15 minutes, I was very tempted as I’ve wanted to see that flick for ages but I managed to resist.

The bar was excellent, exactly the sort of Southern dive I’ve been searching for. Brilliant music (skiffle powered alt-country) abounded and it was all on the free too. I got very very drunk on the cheap Lone Star beer, so drunk in fact that I think I may have fell over and they then refused to serve me. I’d have been served back in The Albion, the Yanks are just quite picky on these things, even in deep deep Texan Texas. My head is a bit sore.

Strange place this USA. I realised a thick skin was necessary early on and adapted accordingly, but it still has it’s moments. Compadres are made in seconds and lost in milliseconds. it’s all very odd but like Mr Zimmerman said, “Friends will arrive, friends will dissapear”. That’s good enough for me.

The train (to Tucson, Arizona – I love the name of the city and state) is at 7 this eve and now I’m just killing time in the hostel listening to the best radio station I’ve ever heard. No talk, just tune after tune, a diverse range ‘n all. I maybe only know 40% of them but I still like the other 60. ‘Devil Town’ by Bright Eyes has just come on, I sing it often in the shower.

I’ll leave you with something Nimrod reminded me of earlier which made me piss my sides. While working in PC Support at Manchester Uni, a girl from HR rang me up and said (in the Mancest of Manc accents) “Is that computas? It’s me printa, it’s makin’ a sound like an ‘oover”.