(no subject)
Worst cramps in the history of inefficient evolution. I have this primeval want to curl up in a foetal position and hibernate. But I have an essay on The Tempest to do. Ban ban, Caliban, indeed.
Over the past week or so my usual liking of the little, simple (admittedly, Amelie-esque) things in life has slipped in favour of getting annoyed at other little, simple things. Like Eamon, who won't stop swearing and get over his girlfriend. Or the unfounded presumptions the author of 'Elizabeth and Mary' keeps making. Or the strangeness of Jason Downs (the white boy with a feather who we all thought had returned to obscurity) doing a seriously dodgy 'urban' track.
I need a project.
Over the past week or so my usual liking of the little, simple (admittedly, Amelie-esque) things in life has slipped in favour of getting annoyed at other little, simple things. Like Eamon, who won't stop swearing and get over his girlfriend. Or the unfounded presumptions the author of 'Elizabeth and Mary' keeps making. Or the strangeness of Jason Downs (the white boy with a feather who we all thought had returned to obscurity) doing a seriously dodgy 'urban' track.
I need a project.