bricks.

little buddies

hiding field.

tranqy states, whiskey stained bedsheets. every night in.


manuscript.

it's funny how alien i feel from the weirdo I was a month ago. freaky broken, saving pills for a rainy day weirdo. human interaction is bizarre, i always think that it's so unnecessary, we were born to live alone but we've become dependent on the company of others. that's why i think "relationships" (particularly couples, I'm more accepting of the menage a trois) are nothing but selfish ways of exacting your own ideals - because you can't really gain anything form another chump on this earth who is as clueless as you. HOWEVER, i seem to have accumulated a right set of best mates over the years who appear in heavy clouds of smoke, out of chinese take away boxes or from between the crackling sounds of a dusty record you dug out of Wall of Sound for £2. and then theres that gem, that more than best mate. the awake all night type, the shaking up the silence type. the voice that got caught in your head like a wasp under a plastic cup, except less angry but just as loud. killing it, caring in dulcet yorkshire tones. when you're in a packed out bar, shivering underneath your ill-fitting skin and you know every goddamn flea that's jumping around you but you can't face to talk to anyone - there's that person that stands by the decks with you 'why are you anxious, i won't leave your side'. those people that are like the sticks you tie aloe vera plants to - them sticks that keep them growing in the right direction. i got my sticks, i'm all over aloe vera. i went from somber solitude, and sordid sickness to well, much better. to sum up, October was rad, it taught me that people matter. just a little bit....

my one bedroom.

rad.

mon coeur est a toi

totally bamboozled but feeling aloe vera.