breakfast ghostwriting

the first item on the free man's agenda: coffeeholic for breakfast. sending cv's, discussing south african politics, being offered the use of a car for a couple of weeks - all good. a beef parisian was definitely the way to start my new life :)

i went searching for chc's new workplace - all she had to do was tell me which beach, but no matter. i picked up a replacement bubble pipe on the way, and was having a grand old time making strangers smile and striking up dialogs with amused tourists right until some ars walked past and threw a snide "what a big boy you are"...

i wish i wasn't so sensitive to idiots, but i automatically felt sorry for him and there wasn't much i could do.

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i spent an hour or two lounging on the beach, sipping a cold one and writing notes [this is your brain on drugs] while chatting to chc whenever she got a chance. much like my piece on realities, i felt like a conduit and when i accidentally put the notebook down on a few drops of condensation from the beer glass, i couldn't recall what i'd written :/

the amusing bit was that the piece that got the most smudged concerned synesthesia and the confusion caused by unusually directed signals :P