Kitten Kong

I’ve been down with a cold for the last couple of days. The sounds and things emitting from my mouth would be enough to make Ridley Scott squeal with terror, curl into bed with a stuffed xenomorph plushie and refuse to come out until the lights have been switched back on again. My voice has taken on the gravelly, straight-edged sound of a partial laryngectomy. I’ve been mistaken for Bruce Wayne several times in the street, and it’s becoming more difficult to keep my midnight vigilantism a secret.

Leaping laryngitis, Batman! 

I’ve taken a short break for coffee, which is as close as I’ll get to a ‘three day cleansing binge’ without first strapping my arteries to a vat of cucumber juice and taking all fluids intravenously. One day of caffeine withdrawal later and my voice has disappeared completely. I refuse to consider that the two events are not related, and will never, under any circumstance try to stop drinking coffee again. I’ve been surviving the withdrawal by listening to Meshuggah, which is aural heroin already; and Ministry, which is perfectly suited for a Junkie.

(If you get the Burroughs reference, well done – you’ve earned yourself a naked lunch at your favourite restaurant).

I’ll be honest here and say that this post is a little bit of an experiment. The previous blog post went a little crazy by any definition of the word which does not include asylums and dictionary writing surgeons. While I’m more than convinced that this will only be seen by the usual collection of aunts, incredulous friends and those few tragically misdirected individuals looking up ‘hoes’ in Google Images and receiving gardening implements instead, I’d like to say hi to any Redditors that may come by for a second look after running out of cats pictures in /r/Aww.

The biggest favour you can do yourself today is to
go home and watch all 9 seasons of The Goodies.