oli's air-drumming really annoys me.

you play guitar. air-drum when i'm not right next to you (all the time).

so?

is everything the way you want? is anything really that close to home? is all we have this pale of grey? is anything at all ''for sure''? for certain, forsaken, forgotten?

foreclosure on a head and heart who’s lease hasn’t yet expired; that’s communism. socialism. a freedom prison... ever wonder if it was possible to free yourself into a nightmare? make sense of it. how free do you have to be? how liberal, how autonomous must you feel before you start asking yourself “where the fuck did I leave my morals and standards”? just because you can get away with it doesn’t mean you have the right to. we’re (well certainly i'm) starting to forget that what goes up must come down. for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. (and in a lot of cases, a bloody rude awakening, to boot). only killers call killing “progress”.

i'm halfway through great expectations and already regret the past ten years that i have chosen to live without acknowledging the work of Charles Dickens. i am the great joe gargery. it's embarrassing.

wet ’em up before we jump. don’t let it get too hot down where it counts. keep your feet on the ground and your dick in your pants. keep your hands to yourself and allow an 8”-surrounding gap when you dance. no one said NOT fucking like rabbits and overpopulating this already bloated boil we call earth full of half-witted ingrates choc-full of sumo-TV goodness would be fun. but it doesn’t have to happen out in the open. have you ever entered a new city at night time? shining bright in all its glory. the large, glowing, industrious spearhead. the tipping point. and as you get closer your mind begins to wander and you take a stab at figuring just what type of repulsive evil transpires behind closed doors and shut blinds and dark corners and back rooms and basements.

read into it, throw-up at the thought. get a new shirt out your bag - you had thai food for dinner so a khaki curry yellow stain now takes the place of pure white nothingness. you smile as you look down at the sublime embodiment of what made you so flash-flood sick to begin with. don’t worry about that which starts out big. it’s harmless and quite possibly even a bit retarded. but be wary of small beginnings. nothing tastes that bad in small sips. baby steps. carter's baby steps.

on the mark of vomitting and thoughts of things far from england and home, do you know how much butter is in a donut? but diluted just enough and you’ve got your self-zitty goodness. so go eat 24 Honey Crullers and then marvel in the apathy surrounding girls, younger and younger, dressing like saigon whores. HEY DAD! This summer it’s short shorts!

really into gavin degraw. such a talent.

safe, sunny and starting to skip the shyness,

ben.