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Sarmoung
Elsewhere Radio Orchestrar / Flickr December 2008
 
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September 11th, 2003
Thursday, September 11th, 2003 02:58 pm

National service has been reintroduced. We're out on a weekend exercise. Hang on, national service hasn't been reintroduced, I think, dubious about the whole affair. The guns aren't much cop either - these heavy bolt action rifles. This isn't going to be much use in close combat. The first day ends and I sleep through roll-call. Everyone goes out on the exercise. It seems the reason I have overslept is because I have been up all night smoking dope. There is a pipe lying on the bed and a large note saying 'NO!' attached to it. This same friend has also written 'Tried to wake you up but you were too fucking stoned' on the mattress in marker pen.
Well, it's not like it's a real war, but the dream starts developing a real sense of dread at this point. I am bound to be hauled up for this. Eventually I make it out into the forest where I see my supposed enemy are waving amateur Soviet flags. Just as I thought, my army is composed of Nazis.
The battle is over, the red menace vanquished. All my friends are giving me reprimanding looks - what do they care about this rubbish all of a sudden? Next thing I know, I'm being hauled in front of my father and various army staff and I don't think 'You're dead', as I am astonished to see him unconvincingly dressed as an Orthodox rabbi. I start screaming that they can all go to hell.
Elements I can trace here - watching 'Come and See', living in Stamford Hill, a great text-based punk lifestyle game called Punk Points (although I got stuck early on in this) I played last night courtesy of No Media Kings, even 'Buffalo Soldiers' from a few weeks back.
Hang on, someone's in the office now (I do very occasionally work!)...
Let's post.

Current Mood: Nothing definitive
Current Music: There's no music audible currently

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