so, he sat down on the border of the bed. he thought about other countries. two other countries: jamaica and his own. palm trees and lots of marihuana. he rubbed his forehead lazily. yawned for over eight seconds. tears. he smiled.
why jamaica? he's seen the tv spots. all the little black kids having fun, playing soccer and sipping juice out of coconuts. 24 hours a day. it looks like a good place to be. and the white folks have fun as well. girls in bikinis, guys with fabulous abs. 24 hours a day. why not jamaica?
he drank coffee, lit a cigarrette and took a crap.
his head felt heavy. he drank too much the night before. he was having fun, though. by himself. he was a rockstar, an actor, a stand-up comedian, a lion, a leaf. everything but himself. and it felt fine. his brain had become a cactus.
and it was all good.
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