Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Last night I watched our downstairs neighbor hurling garbage and bottles off the balcony. And this morning at seven, about 369 drills started drilling, in chorus with an additional 4,394 hammers and the usual 2,699,998 cars, 5 local imams, 1 or 2 batata men with microphones, and no, not a patridge in a pear tree. That partride decided to end it all a long time ago, after his pear tree was uprooted by warring militias and he was diagnosed with lung cancer from all the smog and filth. I can hear my nerve endings pop and fry and fizzle, each one individually,so add to that the noise in my head.

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