Cyclists!

Thursday 22:20 p.m.
I stumblebummed along the pavements after the bus emptied at Elm Row, feeling very, very stoned. Shocked I was. I'd only had four pints of Guiness, a mere aperitif. But carrying home what was left of the almost quarter of the wonderful cannybliss. It's almost like having a social life, so it is.

I wonder what regulates the warmth of your body. An autonomic nervous system? If you get warm for no reason with the special kind of warmth, you must be over-riding that system somehow, or activating another system, surely. You'd think if you were getting warmer you must be burning calories. Scientists should be able to measure that.

Sitting like a cobra tonight for a while in the great thoughtless voids of bliss.

I read the Cyclists book for the first time in a long time yesterday. Right through. I'd forgotten lots of it. I think I used to do a lot more cycling in them days. Not the slightest bit obscene of course. Only one German sheperd dog and that one was imaginary. Dearie me. The boxing bits are the best.

We've got the cannybliss so now we're off the piss!