Another Night

It's the second time you wake up after a night spent sleeping on an Oxfam bag full of vomit that really makes you think. The first time is like a battle scar a story about a Friday or Saturday night  'I was so mashed last night. I woke up in some guys flat. I was sleeping on the floor just resting my head on a Oxfam bag full of vom' is obviously a hilarious story. It invites the kind of competitive storytelling that usually ends with Steve telling us about the time he fucked one of the dinner-ladies from high school. As I was pulling myself into a standing position I took stock of the night, this time was subtly different. I cast my mind back through the night to make a  Monday morning story and found myself board of listening to my own memories. There was no joy in the night.  Sometimes we don't know when to stop.