it is really after-drunk blogging i guess. at rory's flat, having just cleaned up a right mess. including the right mess that is myself, my head. all the boys are asleep except maybe rory, in his parents' room, of which i am wholly unsure
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I couldn't help but see the comedy in the desire to be british during your moment of completion. I couldn't help but see the tragedy in calling atrocities butterflies.
still, this is a manifesto I will return to and you should too. You win.
I was drunk with strangers last night instead of friendzzz. this provided some sort of dionysian cosmic connection? miss you and all epiphanic + emphatic peoples everywhere SO MUCH
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