Noisy, noisy, noisy….an intimate internal silence produced by your laughter, such a clear sense of being outdoors, yet privately in a bubble, i have never wasted so many fine hours before, a delightful addition to part of life which is not open or shared enough, i have everything when i have nothing, simplicity is the greatest distraction to all those outside fears and the filthy, concrete unknown that i know all too well. Be here always.
My gf is asleep upstairs, i’m watching TV, on my 6th beer, just seen a clip of Beyonce singing whilst her hair is caught in a fan during a live gig in Canada, i want to emigrate to Canada, hopefully in 3-4 years, we’ll see, i’m now painfully aware of my poor punctuation and writing skills, my gf says she’s a better writer than me, good for her, i never professed i could write, i don’t want to write. So, Sir Patrick Stewart’s voice makes cartoons sound better, weird, as i used to love Sir Pat in ST:TNG, getting home from school, smoking some hash, putting a pizza in the oven and waiting for all the crap TV programmes to finish until it was times for a certain yellow cartoon family to vaguely entertain me until it was time for Gene Rodenberry’s (incorrectly spelt, don’t care) latest creation to bewilder my tiny, bored, hash tinged mind. Yep, that was a full stop, deal with it. Everyone hated Q, but secretly, they enjoyed his quirky break from Jonathan Frake’s ruddy intense gaze, beards in space shouldn’t be allowed, especially at the helm, fuck you number one, fuck you. So, this has been, well, you know, whatever. Laters. P