A Little Catchup


A week of gloriousness, productive to a point I find unfamiliar. Saturday saw the Jacs, lots of alcohol and dancing. All the unusual trimmings that come with a good night. Sinking mucky Naps; vodka red bull with a shot (or shots) of tequila chucked in to create – a drink part way between antidepressants and that rude white stuff. It will have you feeling like a newly appointed roman god, not sure how but who cares. I recommend it. Needless to say the good-times were not unjustified, they never are, for the workload prior to completing my coarse, not to mention a theory test chucked in just to spice things up, quite had me satisfactorily shattered.

The weekend has induced my sleeping pattern into a situation whereby it jumps up into the air doing somersaults and in doing so has landed upside down with a crash; I spent last night scribbling till sunrise, seeking to suss out how one can truly push the limits of what’s considered modern literature and in the end I concluded a superb plan to publish online – keep your eyes pealed. These holidays then shall be busy and may launch something quite delightful, though they may not depending on my decision weather or not to slide into vice.

Besides being buried in my college work and debauching, committing heresy, distancing myself quite gloriously from the moral requirements of say; the catholic church, not to mention shopping with a complete disregard for my finance, then there really isn’t much to enlighten you on. Usually I venture outwards, test the water of the public happenings and sieve out a wonderful element worthy of debate, I cant be bothered today and instead I’m going to smoke myself into history, drink tea and listen to Radio 3, perhaps I’ll do a chore.

Good day


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