This is a pad wrapper. It was on my wires. Now it is on her pillow.
Sunday, July 29
Tuesday, July 24
DSC01170.JPG
"She cooks you sweet potato, you don't like aubergine. She knows to boil the kettle, when you hum bars from Grease."
A thousand words or less
It's difficult to write. I either spend too much time thinking about what I'd want to say and how I'd want to say it, losing my desire to write something in the meantime, or I lose the desire immediately (which makes me wonder if I ever had it in the first place).
So I post pictures. That rarely has the same effect, but hey, at least I did something. I've wanted to say something about how my sleeping habits are fucking up how I feel about life. Going to bed at eleven at night and waking at two in the morning can't be good. Neither can waking at five in the evening.
There's also this feeling of instability. The lack of a constant in my life, be that a job, a person, or something else. The worst bit is not knowing what to do about it, or anything else.
I need better dreams. I need ambition. Until then I'm the bum that's gained weight since you last saw me.
Monday, July 23
Friday, July 20
Monday, July 16
Sunday, July 15
Saturday, July 14
Friday, July 13
Saturday, July 7
$AVE YOUR$ELVE$
Live Earth makes me want to drive an American SUV for the rest of my life. A Hummer H1, maybe. I don't think there could be a worse way to demonstrate how we can mitigate "global warming" and reduce carbon dioxide emissions by flying musicians all over the world to rock out with their cocks out on sound stages powered by polluting power.
In other news: Apparently sisters are all the same once they hit sixteen.
In other news: Apparently sisters are all the same once they hit sixteen.
Blogged with Flock
Wednesday, July 4
Sunday, July 1
I have my doubts that this is an accurat
I have my doubts that this is an accurate representation of National Service.
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