This is our last dance. This is ourselves.

Monday, 9 November 2009


1,500 words is all I am doing today. 1,000 tomorrow plus Buddhism reading.
Essay writing is depressing and boring and it really does give a sense of real panic that it is impossible to rid yourself of until the very moment that the awful things have left your computer and flew via the interweb to your tutor who will, in return for all your hard work, give you a relatively average grade and highlight all those flaws that you KNEW were there in the first place.

So Mathew is buying me tea and then are going for drinks in Formby. I have a funny feeling that the Railway will be feeling particularly lovely. Yes, you have to ignore the fact that people from Formby might be there (with the obvious exceptions) but right now, sitting under the disgustingly white lights of LJMU library (i know, not Liverpool uni, shocking!) I can think of nothing I would like more than to be sitting in front of that fire with a bottle of Jacques and a packet of McCoys.
Simple pleasures. Simple minds. Extended minds?! fuuccckkk offfff.

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