Blech
I haven't updated in a while and I thought it was because I was just a lazy asshole. But honestly... everything just annoys me too much anymore to have to revisit it here. Good things have been happening -- art, writing, fun -- but still I'm just generally... annoyed.
I've abandoned my website. HTML is too much of a bitch for my non-existant patience. My art's new residence is linked at the top, entitled "Art". Work still sucks, but I'm quitting in a month... hopefully... as long as I'm not the lazy asshole I know I am and prolong things that must be done before I actually walk away from that place.
That's all I can think of for now. Aside for deeply complicated things that I simply don't have the energy or will for. Nor does LJ have that much cyberspace...
No, instead:
Which Survivor of the Impending Nuclear Apocalypse Are You?
It's not unusual to survive my, my, myyyyyy apocalypse, because you're everybody's favourite Welshman,
Tom Jones!
Forged from molten steel beneath the Earth's crust seven hundred million years ago, you are like a great big hairy Welsh crooner of iron. Which is just a well, because it's all-out death time! And great big steel fighting machines tend to survive that kind of thing.
It's good to know your music will live on. Truly, it is.
Which Survivor of the Impending Nuclear Apocalypse Are You?
A Rum and Monkey joint.
I've abandoned my website. HTML is too much of a bitch for my non-existant patience. My art's new residence is linked at the top, entitled "Art". Work still sucks, but I'm quitting in a month... hopefully... as long as I'm not the lazy asshole I know I am and prolong things that must be done before I actually walk away from that place.
That's all I can think of for now. Aside for deeply complicated things that I simply don't have the energy or will for. Nor does LJ have that much cyberspace...
No, instead:
Which Survivor of the Impending Nuclear Apocalypse Are You?
It's not unusual to survive my, my, myyyyyy apocalypse, because you're everybody's favourite Welshman,
Tom Jones!
Forged from molten steel beneath the Earth's crust seven hundred million years ago, you are like a great big hairy Welsh crooner of iron. Which is just a well, because it's all-out death time! And great big steel fighting machines tend to survive that kind of thing.
It's good to know your music will live on. Truly, it is.
Which Survivor of the Impending Nuclear Apocalypse Are You?
A Rum and Monkey joint.