(no subject)
Oh dear lord, how I am bored.
I should be writing that evil essay... but I refuse, or rather my brain does. No arrivals, no sun, no people! I'm so alone. And yet I'm in a bustling hotel. Maybe I should do something productive, like read that poem out loud. Or file my nails?
*weighs up value of each option*
...
*files nails vigorously*
I wish I had a friend named Gland. Honestly, why would you not want to name your kid that? To be the coolest kid in school...to have endless knicknames, to be named after a part of yourself. To catch glandular fever and be able to call it your own. Not to mention the rhyming possibilities.
This journal is so much more interesting than my paper one. I think it's easier to type the first thing that comes into your head than to handwrite it. Maybe that's why my real journal ends up looking more like some sort of log book whereas this one is the product of a brain vomit-session.
Hmmm...
I should be writing that evil essay... but I refuse, or rather my brain does. No arrivals, no sun, no people! I'm so alone. And yet I'm in a bustling hotel. Maybe I should do something productive, like read that poem out loud. Or file my nails?
*weighs up value of each option*
...
*files nails vigorously*
I wish I had a friend named Gland. Honestly, why would you not want to name your kid that? To be the coolest kid in school...to have endless knicknames, to be named after a part of yourself. To catch glandular fever and be able to call it your own. Not to mention the rhyming possibilities.
This journal is so much more interesting than my paper one. I think it's easier to type the first thing that comes into your head than to handwrite it. Maybe that's why my real journal ends up looking more like some sort of log book whereas this one is the product of a brain vomit-session.
Hmmm...