You're so naive; you're so.

I'm not even going to bother recording eating today because I've ingested alchol and henceforth an infinite calorific content.

Note the punctuation on that title.

So.

I saw her today and it was awkward. I haven't apologised. I must tomorrow. When I cuddle... hug... all these words sound stupid... her I must not show I miss her so.

I worked out today that sometimes even the coolest looking people do and say things to make themselves look good. The key is simplicity. To ridding yourself of that shit. Like, one of my friends went, "oh, this girl sat for half an hour absorbing the end of our play"... then was amazed at an apple mac's technology, when really who gives a tiny rats ass when there are people dying of hunger in the third world? Yeah, we're all dying all the time, but surely through death we should be trying to make the lives of everyone else better. Anyway, he couldn't ever have meant the first statement because he did the second... how can you care about reception of what you consider to be artistic genius when you are so worked up on a shitty piece of plastic that produces effects you could see for real, in a puddle?


And people didn't leave a party because they wanted to be seen as hardcore or something, or to be in a group. Well, cliques that are cliquey are shit. I don't mean that though... some are worth entering. Like that exclusive clique for two I once thought I was in.

Ho hum. An albino salamander, native to only two places in Mexico, captive in Great Britain in the capital of gun crime, not even bothering to fight for its life.

A girl so intent on being interesting and likeable she forgets to be interesting and likeable.

A group of people so intent on fitting out they fit in to those who fit out.

A woman wanting to give but having the receptor taken.

I love.... electric fans and men's broken bans
yeats, Keats, Blake, Coleridge and Shakespeare
Her. I like.
My friends.
My... nothing.
Drawing.
I don't know.