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Spiky Punk Hair.

November 15, 2010

I was walking around Edinburgh and somehow wound up in Gorgie. There were street-fights everywhere. Every-body had lower-class English accents, and had spiky punk hair. The drinks of choice were cheap cider and weizen beer. There were lots of conversations about how such-and-such got taken to the park on the hill and bottled, or such-and-such was stabbed in the stomach right in front of a police officer. I was nervous. I went to pass one group who were talking like this, and then thought better of it and held back. They noticed and the alpha-male (who looked like Lee Brown) started getting smart. I decided to run to the next Liquor-mart for shelter. He held me back and said that he knew what I was trying to do and that Liquor-marts were, “the equivalent of a pansy bin in these parts.”

He held me back by my hoodie, half choking me, and took out a switch-blade. I wriggled free and into the store just before he stabbed it deep into my lower back. He did cut me, but only a little. I thought, “I have to move back to Japan.”

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