TRAVEL EXPENSES

English is not my mother tongue, and therefore, it has always been my favourite communicative tool. It allows me to create novel patterns and constructions, as well as making remarks I wouldn't even suspect myself of. It is unaffectedly playful, as if specially created for jokes and puns. English is also, and it appears to be its greatest advantage, half-dead to me. The non-native-speaker-like linguistic competence of mine makes both my thoughts and feelings easier to set in order and express. It's simply more neutral and even when I actually say something terribly important in English, it seems to lose its meaning and emotional undertone. Similarly, the most outrageous swearwords trip off the tongue and are only partly offensive. What am I driving at? Well, I am about to take advantage of English once again and play a game of verbal exhibitionism to let something out; something so incredibly embarrassing that it requires the use of a foreign language to come to light.

When I woke up at four this morning, I felt in the clear, much to my surprise. However, this curious emotion, or lack of any emotions, to be more exact, can be accounted for. So can be my today's convenient helplessness. Negative catharsis, otherwise known as hangover, the devious culprit of my condition, was not much of an oppressor this morning. Actually, the break of to-day has been the happiest moment for me for a month or so. Not just because yesterday evening was finally over, but also because the hangover meant I was under no influence of ethyl alco-hole anymore. And this was good news. I've got two serious problems, you see: a face that can be read like a picture book and a propensity to get spaced-out after a certain number of bevvies. It's like unintentional putting your mind in another room; a cozy, private place with a fire burning. However, the longing for that room appears on my face the moment I get my being hyphenated and lasts much longer than until my narcoleptic mind finds its way back to its physical confinement. This kind of standoffish reverie happened to me twice yesterday evening. The timing left a lot to be desired, unfortunately. It's good to be back, I tell you. And for the first time, it's good to have a hangover.