reading
8/365
back in Notts - really fun night out, little bit sad too cause i realised what i’ve missed out on this year by not getting to know people better. some genuinely awesome people here. cheesy chips from Dino’s and ring of fire. fuuuun!
It’s coming to the end of term and all my motivation to revise has kinda gone.
fake barbecue for Venezuela and melting in my bedroom
CUM ON FEEL THE NOIZE
girls rock ya boys
Currently: dancing in my bedroom, looking at pictures (this one is from Sweden, in the culture museum. Not my slippers. Moving platform thingy.)
Don’t know. Need some positivity. It’s taking the form of air guitar and red grapes.
And Quiet Riot, apparently..
I love the tall and pointy featured, dark humoured and in fancy dress. Underestimated intellect, under the influence and fabulously unhollywood. The fucking weirdos, crazy, stressy, frustrating and completely hilarious. Part-time geniuses, half-time sleepers and all-the-time beauties. Perhaps I don’t even know them all that well, but some people you can’t help but admire that they are just beautiful people. Some are those closest to me. They’re made of all these things. Bad jokes, thin lips, huge eyes. Amazing photographer, shit dancer, wonderful singer, amazing lyricist. Guitars, boats, computers, cameras, musicals, cartoons, genuinely-don’t-care fashion. Grapefruit for breakfast, Doctor Who loving, bitching and whining, stunning and high. Quick to fall in love, hopelessly fucked over in love, finally found real love and needy in love. Engaged to a wonderful man in six inch heels.
These are the people I adore. Fucking hell, I love people.
—
Andy Warhol
O you so right, A-Dawg. You so right.
It’s crappy when you realise someone just doesn’t care for being friends with you. It’s not heavy-heart-to-the-point-of-back-break-bad, but it’s not really nice, is it?
Anyway, I’m generally feeling a lot more upbeat today. I’ve been SO much more productive and I may have sorted out a little work experience here and there, which should be great.
I’m really in the mood to write, but everything I write, I hate five days later. It’s irritating. Wish I could just fall in love with an idea and stick to it.
Gutted that the amount of work I’ve got to do means I won’t see him for a looooong time.