Toltec dreaming>>>>

Post incident I have been suffering these quasi-traumatic night terrors wherein I am stapled onto my orthopaedic matress and I can feel the left hand side of my face melting into my sheets. Upon awakening I can still feel these deadened muscles hanging off my skull so I Usain Bolt it over to the mirror expecting my precious visage to resemble this:

Of course this isn't the case and I am always greeted by my winning smile but still, echoes of this facial paralysis haunt me for the rest of my day. Now i'm not at all neurotic but this all leaves me wondering if I may have a bout of the old Bell's Palsy coming on. Who's to know that this little trauma hasn't realigned my whole physiongomy? I hear horror stories of elderly ladies just waking up with stroke-face. It happens overnight for them. The muscles just forget to stay in place. I know i'm still relatively spritely and all but maybe I've managed to hasten this process.

But really, in all seriousness, how socially acceptable is it to have a friend that looks like that? I live in East London. You can only get away with looking like a disabled sparrow if you call yourself No Bra. It'd be solipsism city for me from now on. I'd be Bethnal Green's answer to Vince Vaughan: Had it. Lost it.

Of course the likelyhood of this happening is actually pretty minimal and as my dishy Polish dentist keeps telling me "Worse thing happen to you is we give you false teeth. Worse thing than that, we plant you new nerves". Wise words.

So all I can really figure is that this was meant to happen, the reason being to fit in with my forthcoming 'Grunge Witch Doctor' look.

Its no secret that i've become 'a little bit more spiritual' this year. I feel it serves to make me a little more arcane. I've been told that in the right light I smoulder with a kind of wandering mystique. You may even say that i'm like a character from a Knut Hamsun novel; tragic, debased, sporadically charming, not scared of a little public humiliation but ultimately, pointless.

Anyway, so I've been honourably informed that gold teeth are free on the NHS and if I decide to embrace this little perk I can begin to look a little more like this chap:

That is Papa Guedhe, a character from Grant Morrison's masterwork and carnival of meta-esoterica, 'The Invisibles'. Alike me, his power animal is a peacock. I have decided to use him both as spiritual and sartorial inspiration from now on. I can already feel the divine spark of his being pulse through my rotten gums. You see, this was all predestined. In the end i've gained from this.
Doesn't it make you want to believe in these sort of things?

Okay thats all for now.