"I'm gonna smile my best smile
And I'm gonna laugh like it's going out of style
Look into her eyes and pray that she don't see
That learning to live again is killing me..."
Yesterday this was what the TV guide said for a program called Reaper: 'Home Stretch' - Sam carries on his quest to find the devil. It said more, but none of it made it any better and by then I was giggling too much to take note - especially with all the sarcastic and wtf noises my father was making.
Today should have been zg but was mostly Oast and trains to the extent where even going to Sabbat was pointless. Somewhen on the way back when considering crashing I was invited to a party. Pulled neurons together. Went. Had a good if random time. Talked far too much wibble (especially to one lovely blonde lady - sorry). Blergh.
Throughout the evening (between Sussex, party and flat) I recieved four propositions, one telephone number and one Virgin Mary medalion thing. That has to be some kind of record for me. Also wandered round Trafalgar Square several times looking for my bus stop and rescued a fir tree someone had splatted from its pot. The pot weighed more than I did so passers by were compelled to help me. The fir tree in its gratitude sent me a bloke who lived in Catford who tried to chat me up but at least knew which bus stop I required. I was too tired to be inventive, I told him I was psychotic and showed him my wrists. His eyes went rather wide. My bus appeared; I vanished.
I'm really rather fekking tired. And (because, no doubt, I'm tired) I'm suddenly feeling acutely miserable.
"Oh this learning to live again is killing me..."
Look into her eyes and pray that she don't see
That learning to live again is killing me..."
Yesterday this was what the TV guide said for a program called Reaper: 'Home Stretch' - Sam carries on his quest to find the devil. It said more, but none of it made it any better and by then I was giggling too much to take note - especially with all the sarcastic and wtf noises my father was making.
Today should have been zg but was mostly Oast and trains to the extent where even going to Sabbat was pointless. Somewhen on the way back when considering crashing I was invited to a party. Pulled neurons together. Went. Had a good if random time. Talked far too much wibble (especially to one lovely blonde lady - sorry). Blergh.
Throughout the evening (between Sussex, party and flat) I recieved four propositions, one telephone number and one Virgin Mary medalion thing. That has to be some kind of record for me. Also wandered round Trafalgar Square several times looking for my bus stop and rescued a fir tree someone had splatted from its pot. The pot weighed more than I did so passers by were compelled to help me. The fir tree in its gratitude sent me a bloke who lived in Catford who tried to chat me up but at least knew which bus stop I required. I was too tired to be inventive, I told him I was psychotic and showed him my wrists. His eyes went rather wide. My bus appeared; I vanished.
I'm really rather fekking tired. And (because, no doubt, I'm tired) I'm suddenly feeling acutely miserable.
"Oh this learning to live again is killing me..."