Sinister: la la la, my life is really interesting, oh yes...

[tomatron]

well now,

i appear to be writing an email at 5 in the morning. i wonder why, hmmm?
ah... i'll have got my results from my finals today, then. i'll probably
be drunk, or something. the trouble is that, despite getting a really
quite good mark given my complete lack of work, i now have absolutely no
respect for the subject i spent the last year studying. as the lad marx
(groucho, i think, not karl) in no way said, i wouldn't want to study any
subject that i could do well in. no academic standards, see?...no wonder
this country's going to the suburban dogs.

i think i'm going to be sleeping on the beach in scarborough come the
26th; nah, really, if anybody knows how to get back to (say) leeds from
there post-gig, me and my pal charlie would be most grateful. /somebody/,
please... i've kind of gotta be back in the cambridge area the next day
to, er, graduate...

(still, i'm sure it's a lovely beach to sleep on)

bought vinyl copy of "ant music" single today from a charity shop. the
oldish lady behind the till started stroking it and saying how much she
used to love him. she then took it out of the sleeve and started staring
at it in raptures, running her hands around the grooves and saying how she
thought they were amazing. it was several minutes before she actually let
me have the bloody thing. i felt like i was tearing her baby from her
bosom, and ironically* it wasn't even a baby i could listen to 'cos i
haven't got a baby player, i just wanted it for the thrill of posession
and the nice cover the baby had.

[sometimes a metaphor can be stretched to far, i feel, and that includes
words and sentences, which are essentailly just very oblique metaphors for
the things they represent. maybe.] a metaller friend of mine was quite
annoyed tonight when i played him Lazy Line-Painter Jane and he
inadvertently liked it, not realising who it was. is it just me or is
there a minor revival of the (subjectively, i admit) wonderful band
menswear going on? a man told me that love is overrated as an ideal and
underreated as a practicality, and i'm wondering if is should believe him.
another good friend has recently has a complete mental breakdown following
a violent psychotic episode last weekend, and we've no idea when or if
he'll get better or how he is right now. i have run out of cigarettes.
life appears to go on, despite (or perhaps because of) all this.

oh dear, i seem to have written one of those long inconsequential rambling
posts that i've just deleted about a hundred of 'cos my disk's getting
full and which i swore to myself i'd never write...

fuck.

sty btfl,
tm (BA)


*in no way ironic, and i hate it when people misuse that bastard word...

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