Fuck unrequited love. My last post was an exercise in being a ween-lord. I don't take back everything I said, but I do feel that I am much more than some sad sack who's all weepy and Morrissey about life.
Sorry Morrissey. You know I didn't mean it like that....
Last night, I got plastered in my house. And then I went across the street to the Conservatory for some kinda ridiculous dance party with hippies and kids on drugs. I met some dude named Jack, and Tylore stole me an awesome cop hat. Something I've wanted for a long time. We danced like happy demons and then went back to the house. I wanted to visit the neighbours, as they are generally night owls, but they were not home.
Today I slept in. And then I got up and did nothing. For a long time. And drank 3 CUPS OF COFFEE and had chats with Steve. Then I put my weave in, and it looks fucked. Thank God, I have a cop hat now....
I sat around and smoked weed and ate lasagna, deftly prepared by the inimitable Andy Sears, and then I decided to hole up in my room, which is curiously still clean.
Go me. I'm a salty pirate and I don't have two fucks to rub together! Huzzah!
(I'm pushing for "I don't have two fucks to rub together." to take the place of "I don't give a fuck." Just saying.)
