Well whaddya know
15:01 Edit This 0 Comments »The other day i was reading trainspotting, and I came across a part where the main dude ‘Rents’, named appropriately because of his career as a part time gigolo, couldn’t find any veins in his body to insert some good grade heroin. Clearly he should be some sort of doctor that inserts something, anything, into veins. Well, our diligent hero finds himself in a pickle you see.
So he inserts the ’skag’ into the vein in his penis.
Fantastic. I think its time for some light magical realism don’t you?
And then Cinderella flew away in her magic pumpkin, while her fairy godmother inserted some skag into her….
Actually lets not. Trainspotting really hit me hard, and no, not in that way, I don’t get hard over people inserting heroin into their penises. It hit me hard in a morally deficient, psychedelic, cultural and overbearingly Scottish way. Trainspotting is fantastic. It’s a snapshot, of life. Life in a way is just drugs, mindless sex, and physical abuse at the hands of needles and whatnot. Well that is what happens when you walk into the NHS with a cough.
Life is psychedelic. The resentment of present day society causing angry ‘fitba’ obsessed Scotsman, to make casual sex (doesn’t fucking call it love or you’ll get hit around the head with a haggis) under the influence of cooked drugs. Well no one likes anything raw now, do they?
My point is, join in. Casual sex sure beats countdown.