BURNT TOAST

I sort of want this picture on a T shirt. I really hate how ugly a penis is.

Anyway, this isn't the point, not that there particuarlly is one. I just remembered that my finance teacher called me "Baby" the other day and it creeped the hell out of me. I hate anyone calling me baby anyway but especially from an aging old accountant looking man who thinks he's hilarious. As I hate accounting with a passion i've not been attending his classes and he noticed this week and thought he'd embarrass me infront of everyone. Greattt. "Spending too much time dying your hair white har har har, you'll start to look like me har har har." UGH.

I went out last night and it ended in a blurred mess (some may say as per usual). I threw up in my now girlfriends house. God, what a treat ey? My head hurttsss, i'm spending the day in bed listening to Snoop Dogg. I don't think you'd put some of the music I like with my face. I wish I could remember the music from last night, i'm sure I liked it. I'm also surprised as the other day I met someone, and it was weird because sometimes you can see a picture of someone and presume they'll sound so different to their face. Well, that happened. I liked the voice but I was a bit like oh, that's strange, I was expecting gruff rough voice but it's not at all. I don't think you should jump to conclussions about people sometimes. I'm so quick to make a swooping generalisation.

I need a hair cut. I got a ring in my nose and i'm such a little brat I made April come with me and I squeezed her hand really hard. It did hurt a bit though but it's fine now and I quite like it. My house is surprisingly quiet, Rach has gone home and everyone else is out or hungover. It freaked me out a little bit that Chris and Charlesberg read my blog, not that it's like "I fucking hate them!" but i always presume noone can actually be that bothered.

I'm rambling on about not a lot, I should really be doing my washing, or bath but i'm so toasty in my bed. I'm seeing SOV tonight and shes supposed to be staying at Aprils. It does really intrigue me, I like awkward/weird/unusual situations quite a lot so it should be funny.

Oh and we're going to Paris!

RUNWAY NEVER LOOKED SO CLEAR

It didn't hit me in one fell swoop, but its this gradual build that scares me the most.

It's not the most conventional way to go about it but it seems fitting.

It makes me a bit warm in my stomach.

Its changed me already, i've swapped a scowl for a smile.

I want to let myself take a good go at it.

I'm trying.

THE ONLY SONG TO SING

(written en route home)

Perspective
There is a part of this train journey that goes past Teignmouth that I always put down my magazine for, it’s got really deep red rocks and it’s great when it’s really stormy because the train goes right along the seafront. I like it when it’s so stormy the train almost gets sprayed with sea. It’s also my flag for getting into Plymouth, theres an abandoned boat that looks like it has been sat there for years. Everything about Plymouth is out of date, but in a good way.

I’ve had a weekend that I needed to rejuvenate, I felt like I was sort of loosing any attention span, motivation and general mood in Brighton. Not because of anyone or any one thing, I just felt like I/it was becoming a bit stale, needed the change of scenery.

I got in late Friday night, then went out, for some reason I was in the highest of spirits as soon as I got into Plymouth, probably the relief of getting off a 5 and a half hour train journey. I’m quite patient when it comes to trains but that’s a long time sat still, especially when you spend some of it in a corridor. We went to a club in a bus shelter, this is very typical of Plymouth, clubs are dirty, again in a good way. People talk to each other more, it feels like everyone knows its shit but wants to make the most of it. Another thing I notice about Plym is that theres no pretence, theres no groups of kids trying to make an impression. Everyone is still listening to MGMT like it’s some sort of revelation and the height of drum n bass is Pendulum. It’s nice though, it’s a bubble. I think I’m in my spectator element when I’m in Devon, it’s like a micro society.

Saturday night we went out at about 12.30, ended up in an old hotel that had been completely emptied for a house party. It was pretty amazing the pure effort they had put into organising this night, everything was stripped from the rooms, I’m surprised they didn’t take out the light bulbs just to keep them safe too. The house was covered in cardboard. I didn’t really go with any expectations but left feeling really good. There must have been about 150 people in this four floor place at one point, people were literally queuing to get up the stairs, apparently there were six djs too but I only managed to see two. Again I spent most of the night talking to random people, I met a boy who explained all his tattoos in immaculate detail, a girl who lived in Brighton and left it for Plym who had the best hair cut ever, and this little girl who I just called fleur all night, she told me her full name but I couldn’t remember it so I just left it as fleur, she painted my face in glow paint and I drank her gin (even though I hate gin). We left the house at about 6am and slowly marched home. Three of us passed out in em’s bed and I woke fully dressed covered in glow paint, but happy despite moaning about my head.

Sunday we watched curling all day, I love the winter Olympics. Then we went to pub quiz, it was brilliant. There was a sexual questions where answered included “dutch oven” and “blue waffle.” I really needed urban dictionary all night. Then em and I brought the most amount of pizza I’ve ever seen and watched Billie Piper do her thing on tele. Basically, an all round success. I’m quite looking forward to getting back to Brighton now, which I guess I refer to as home but at the same time I really could have spent longer in Devon. It sorts out my head. On my way to the train station UKIP gave me a balloon and played trombones at me, only in Plymouth.

NOUN

po⋅lyg⋅a⋅my 

 /pəˈlɪgəmi/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [puh-lig-uh-mee] –noun
1.
the practice or condition of having more than one spouse, esp. wife, at one time. Compare bigamy (def. 1), monogamy (def. 1).
2.
Zoology. the habit or system of mating with more than one individual, either simultaneously or successively.

BRUISED

Tomorrow i've promised myself it will be the start of a new era of being nicer.

I promise myself I will NOT smoke 20 cigarettes a day/night, it's gross and disgusting and it's happened too many times recently. I will not drink £2.50 wine, the whole bottle, every last drop and then think it was actually quite nice because i'm beginning to sound like an alcoholic. I should also really impose celebacy upon oneself but for some reason this always has an opposite effect. Last night was one of those nights where the point to stop drinking was before I'd left the house. My liver hates me. I also have found that I can have a really weird violent streak when drunk, giving people black eyes isn't really that sexy alas far too enjoyable, i'm beginning to sound a little mental.Probably a fine case for domestic violence, but I like it.

Today i've mainly spent it a bit confused about life and the simple task of even making a cuppa has challenged me. I've got 3000 words to write for next week. Oh and only the most important interview of my life to date......but i'll do that later. Au revoir.