I'm sure we've all had 'em, regretted 'em, forgotten 'em, and glorified 'em while glossing over the more embarrassing details.
Unfortunately I haven't had one in as long as I can remember, so I'd like to solicit some advice on what I should do during the lost weekend that appears to be welling up in my psyche. It is important to remember that all things are possible on lost weekends, the outré or esoteric equally likely given the appropriate level of chemical enhancement attained.
I've tried to narrow the field down as far as possible, so give me your best shot.
Prague - I'm not over keen on dumplings, but I love cheap beer.
Inside Uma Thurman's underwear - for obvious reasons.
A Butlin's glam rock weekend - this would be to satisfy my sense of post modern irony. I have no desire to dance along to Mud's 'Tiger Feet'.
Inside Robert Mugabe's Head - so that I could understand the obliviousness to human misery that megalomania enables. Then I'd give him an aneurysm.
With Jean Paul Sarte - just to find out if he really was such an ugly little bastard as everybody claims.
With Simone de Beauvoir - just to find out what a cracking French bird was doing with an ugly myopic little French bastard like Sartre.
Saigon - so I could wander around in a linen suit, quote French Existentialist philosophy in a pretentious manner, and smoke opium.
Unfortunately I don't suppose any of these are particularly likely. It's more likely to be Edinburgh, Perth, or Glasgow as usual.
One can but dream.
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19 comments:
I tend to get lost in my own head these days, so I could have a lost weekend in my own house...
Seriously, though?
You need to go to Budapest. Quickly. With an Eric Ambler.
Does Herge need a travelling companion?
peevish
American houses are so big I'd need a sat nav to find my way around.
arabella
Hmmm....Budapest sounds good. Even bigger dumplings.
MJ
Herge already has the lovely Frou Frou, who will protect his innocence from the wily natives.
MJ - Plus, since Garfer has met me I'm certain he'd find the idea of travelling with me appalling.
Garfer - what's with the dumplings?
I haven't had a lost weekend - ever. Don't think I've drunk more than 10 units all year. Should be having a few jars next week when me and pal go see the legendary Mark Lanagan and darling Ms Isobel Campbell - one of your kin-folk I think Garfer.
Dumplings?
Have you no imagination Mr Smith? Think euphemism.
Oh yeah, sorry, being really thick...
I'm the one american that's neither rich nor owns a big house. And you know I'm in bad shape because I published that comment without finishing it...
Too much stress. End of school year. Brain fried.
herge smith will shortly be fondling Thai dumplings methinks.
All Americans have big houses Peevish. Your garages alone are sufficiently large to accommodate three generations of Britons and still have room for an Irish Wolfhound.
Uma wins everytime.
Any time in Mugabe's head would result in lifelong mental trauma from which you'd never recover. The man is psychotic.
Yeah, I think I'd better stick to Being John Malkovich.
I'm worried about thai dumplings with secret sausages.
I 3rd Uma, Ms Thurman is a radiant Goddess, so she is.
choose saigon. choose saigon, and all the rest of it will come to pass.
you chase the dragon, and the dragon chases you. but oh, the interregnum!
...besides, what if uma doesn't wear uns? kinda shoot that one all to hell, wouldnt it.
I do not say 'so she is' Herge, ya big bollocks. I'll have you know I went to a Grammar school and can talk proper and that.
A lost weekend with Uma sans undies would also be acceptable FN. Pass me my pipe will you.
It's difficult to decide which would be the more frightening lost weekend - inside Robert Mugabe's head (what if the red mist descends?) or in Prague, which is full of marauding scar faced ex- cons from Nottingham on stag nights.
I think I'd have to settle for Robert Mugabe's head.
Prague's too expensive for the underclass these days. They go to Riga and vomit instead.
What can I do? I went to a comp. I'm lucky I'm not stuck full of knives and low-rent drugs.
Nowt wrong with low rent drugs. Many a happy afternoon I spent in a crack house translating Ovid and composing sonnets.
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