i'm glad you're home, because it's your turn to get mauled by the baboon.
ren and stimpy - fine cartoon
terça-feira, 16 de novembro de 2010
domingo, 7 de novembro de 2010
e-burgh the city
these streets are lined with cafe after pub after bar after pub after cafe, and i want to visit them all and be jovial and warm.
rainy day raving
at the moment i'm too self-obsessed to make this about anything more than my deep-seated neuroses.
one day i will have an audience, and on that day my mother will read this blog.
one day i will have an audience, and on that day my mother will read this blog.
quinta-feira, 4 de novembro de 2010
come and hide your lovers
before i forget (which won't happen for a while as this was, by far, my greatest achievement in the last few days), i think i managed to put on my duvet cover properly today. turns out if each corner is in place the thing will sort of hold together and not become a lumpy piece of shit swimming in bunched up cheap fabric everytime you move your leg. thank you, e-how, yet again. the trial run is tonight.
quarta-feira, 3 de novembro de 2010
what's a man to do
the name, sublime. the design, understated, elegant, and entirely based on a pre-existing template. the content, fairly uninspired tbh. i'm still carving out a niche, and it could take a while.
for now, this is just an excuse for me to write for the sake of writing. of course, when you actually sit down to write with no idea what to write about, absolutely nothing comes to mind. your brain draws blanks left right and indeed centre. even this very sentence did not emerge efortlessly on the screen. you feel you have nothing to say, have never had anything to say, and will never have anything to say. so far this is an experience not altogether dissimilar from the act, or art, of talking to girls with a view to perhaps getting them to take their clothes off in your presence, something i know very, very little about but still enjoy obsessing over from time to time. to time to time to time. there's something to write about. my eternal struggle with things that i'm sure come easily to most normally functioning folk.
ah, what's a man to do but work out whether it's true
for now, this is just an excuse for me to write for the sake of writing. of course, when you actually sit down to write with no idea what to write about, absolutely nothing comes to mind. your brain draws blanks left right and indeed centre. even this very sentence did not emerge efortlessly on the screen. you feel you have nothing to say, have never had anything to say, and will never have anything to say. so far this is an experience not altogether dissimilar from the act, or art, of talking to girls with a view to perhaps getting them to take their clothes off in your presence, something i know very, very little about but still enjoy obsessing over from time to time. to time to time to time. there's something to write about. my eternal struggle with things that i'm sure come easily to most normally functioning folk.
ah, what's a man to do but work out whether it's true
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