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Still here. Still edging.

This weekend requires me to be focussssed.

I would love to crawl underneath a double duvet and pass out, but nein.

As tempted as I am to chuck my vows out the window, this just has to be done. Keep on keeping on.

In other news, I really have the kiffest mates, for realsies brah.

I had another hair cut, and this time the hairdresser was on acid, so I look a bit silly. I’m hoping it grows out soon. In the mean time I’ll just straighten my hair four times a day, wear a hat, and jab people in the eyes. Soon my entire friend base will be blind and they won’t be able to laff at my hurr.

I slept 1.5 hours on Thursday night, thanks to T.S Eliot, Linton Kwesi Johnson, the English Department, and my bad planning skills. I know right, sometimes we all let the OCD team down. I paid for it by having to pull an all-nighter of pain, coffee, stomach cramps and spazziness.

Hey at least the essay is in. I don’t think I will ever read through it again though. I probably wrote something like

Linton Kwesi Johnson is writing back to butterfly on my chin with the hat hat hat (Smith,1995: 3) and when I say black British the image hence we can see how Eliot’s transformative poetic techniques have influenced to a significant extent the tummy in my cramp.

Anyway. I made up for that crap by sleeping for ELEVEN. YES. THAT’S TEN PLUS ONE. HOURS. Last night. With a sedative and ear plugs in my ears.

Well the sedative was in my belly, the ear plugs…

yeah you see what I did there.

ANYWAY. Time to get to the theatre for three hours! And then rock out with my socks out to some heavy jol tonight. Thank God for music and friends 😀


Comments on: "Still here. Still edging." (2)

  1. An Imperfect Servant said:

    You really put a smile on my face, Marty.

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