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Bedridden, Kilkenny Ireland

Rose Inn Street, August 2002 —

I've been bed-ridden for nearly a week now, and today is the first time I've been able to carry a shoulder-bag of groceries without incurring undue damage.

I had a spontaneous back injury last Tuesday, while I was up at a friend's to borrow a tent so that I could go camping and hitchhiking westward. I was reaching for a tissue in her bathroom so that I could blow my nose, and a crick in my back twinged me with a small sharp electric-taste pain. I should have paid better fucking attention, and I didn't, and I proceeded to further my injury over the next two days. Been convalescent now it's Monday I guess that's four days. Mostly in bed.

Mostly in bed those first two days as well, but I did some other stupid shit and well history is history.

Oh, God. I've been up for nearly what 2 hours I'll bet. I'm starting to ache for the bed. All up and down my back, now, the pain is driving bluntly. Sometimes, it goes down the large muscles of my legs, and burns with a fatiguing ache. The critical sharp pain is right near the base of the spine.

Ima finish the last of the third and last Guinness I got at the store and pee and smoke a hit from a can. Pipes are not big here, and I don't have one. Stupid. I'm listening to The Strokes.

Two hours out of bed—and this morning I'd worried I wasn't healing. That's how it's been.

— 7 August 2002 Kilkenny, Ireland

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