it feels like an underachieving group of teenagers are curled up nochalantly inside my brain and have closed all the windows in order to smoke their spliffs and feel dizzy from the very air around them because nothing natural can squeeze in.
(I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT EVERYONE WHO SMOKES WEED IS AN UNDERACHIEVER OR INDEED THAT THEY ALL FIT INTO THE SAME STEREOTYPE THANKS)
this is because i have quite a lot to do.
therefore, it looks like me and blogging will go our seperate ways for a couple of weeks and i'll come back when i'm less stressed and pat his/her (blogging hath no gender, fools) tiny fuzzy head and ask him/her hows s/he's been. s/he'll reply with something like, "you know, it's been a struggle without you. but in the end, isn't life a constant struggle? repetition. a closed circuit. bustling bodies just flitting round society pretending to know their place. in the end, who really knows their place? really? i certainly don't. i am a bubble of curiosity waiting to pop. cryptic metephors. cryptic metephors. cryptic metephors."
and i'll smile and say, "i missed you too."
me trudie and chris at the weekend. i love these beautiful people.