Being Captain Sharky

I've come down off of a 4 day drunk to see if the world has changed, and I've found myself in the company of a Vietnamese hooker here on the Strand who claims to be an Italian Pentacostal Jew, keeps calling me "El Diablo" (which I understand to be Mexican sounding and meaning something to the effect of 'Large, Round Man'), and singing "Run Dabe at a Fine, Sleet Jesus." (I think this is something to the effect of "One Day at a Time, Sweet Jesus, but how the hell should I know - I'm drunk.....). I'm not sure how I ended up in the company of this woman, but she has apparently been feeding me and washing my clothes, but all of my credit cards are missing and I suddenly have pierced nipples. I am somewhat ashamed at myself for letting this happen to me, but at the same time, she has found me employ at the local hospital - doing what, I don't know, because the last thing I remember, I was a captain on a dive boat..... Anyhoo, I'm kind of looking forward to this gig, as my vietnamese hooker-woman keeps talking about the financial executive at this hospital being into 8 balls. Any woman who can both count money and snort an 8 ball is allright with me.

I had the most bizarre dream sometime over the last 4 days - more like a hallucination. A thousand vultures with the faces of Brittney Spears (the one with the bad tattoo and bald head) were swooping down air-raid style on me as I lay naked in the bathtub of the Italian-Pentecostal-Jew-Vietnamese-Hooker. They would swoop down and try to shit on me, and I was shooting them double birds as they flew by, and was able to knock one of them out of the sky with a bottle of Tequila. As I looked into it's bloody humanoid face, I realized it was my own face, but an eyeball was missing. In a tree just outside her apartment here on the Strand (Postoffice Street to be exact), were two vultures, with the faces of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, and they were fighting, biting eagerly at each others tongues and eating the last of my eyeball. Maybe I should run this one past my Therapist - she's bound to know what the fuck that is all about, because it's freaking my shit out.

I'm feeling surprisingly well, considering the massive amount of toxic substances I have ingested over the past few days. In retrospect, this probably has not been the smartest thing, because I'm starting this new gig, and I'm sure they will be making me pee in a cup, if I'm able to escape the clutches of this hideous woman of ill repute. Perhaps I could purchase some urine from you?

I've started smoking again, apparently. I came to earlier today with a Pal Mal between my teeth, burning the filter. I nearly burned my hooker friend's apartment down, and she's kind of pissed, so I'd better get off her computer.