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details)
There was laughter and music and silly nonsense
and jolly music made from drunken thoughts and
fist fights resulting in overturned tables and the
nice sound of copulation in bushes, of lips kissing,
of screaming and spanking and the worst kind of
social behaviour anywhere. It was unusual to find
a grin or a smile so I photographed whenever it
happened for posterity and showed the results to
my peers and my friends who stood on chairs to
watch the display of debauched artistry. They
liked it (they said) and they did and they said so
(again) until I became bored and they laughed
loud at my drooping eyelids and patted my head
till I screamed till it hurt, till it made me so unhappy
that I thought of returning home. There are
heroes and bullies and I'm a hero to my crowd of
fools and a happy boy to be around and glad I've
done something right in hell (where things aren't
always so pleasing).
