‘One morning, after a night of unsettling dreams, Gregor Samsa awoke to find himself transformed into an enormous insect.’ If memory serves, Kingsley Amis wrote somewhere that this opening shot from Kafka’s Metamorphosis lucidly describes a *hangover*. Well, the old man was right. Damn.
This is the worst hangover I’ve had in, wow, just decades. I almost asked ’em to turn down the candles at church because they were *so loud*. I never knew candles could be *so loud*. Would it be absurd to take a nap before driving home?
I have concert tickets for this evening – Mozart and Bartok. Will I survive? Could someone turn off all these lights? And why is the inevitable Muzak blaring electronica so loudly the long dead bacteria on Mars can hear it?