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Since the bionic back is rebelling again, last nite I embraced the updated version of the Great British tradition of Laudanum and found the last remaining supply of Tramadol nestling in the bottom of a desk draw and washed a few back with beer.  A more modest version of the blackberry whiskey and Tramadol combination which successfully took me through the weeks after my operation, it still appears to work as a pretty affective painkiller.  Albeit one that separates your head from your neck.

The soundtrack to this discordant sedative is the Jefferson Starship/Aeroplane and Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake.  At a loud volume.

The reading list is Slaughterhouse 5 (there is a reason why Tramadol and Tralfamadore are very similar words), Eric Stanton and Audrey Niffennegger’s graphic novels.  Posy Simmons would also work rather well.

When the cat turns into a butler and heads to the supermarket or starbucks the menu will be hot chocolate.  Until then it is green tea and lemon.

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