What Was I Thinking?

I think I have manifested pains in my chest. I kept thinking about the bogey man cancer, I used it as a smoking deterrent. You’ll get lung cancer. You’ll get lung cancer. You'll get lung cancer. Which made me quit. But the point is, I kept thinking about lung cancer. And now I've got pains in my chest. More so when I think about it. So, I conclude that it is largely psychosomatic. But still? What was I thinking? Idiot!

I kind of had that realisation this week and every thing since has been about how your mind can mess with you. David's Happy Cards, all of them, as if it was some sort of telepathy. Now Shane has been talking about it, tonight. The power of thought to give you disease.

On the bright side, I've got dope and nobodies home, so I might just get shit-faced and watch porn. Fuck it!

Shane's gone to fuck a trolley dolly in Matt's bed, while Matt is over seas. Matt's housemate is overseas too.

I’m still smoking cigarettes. I know, I know. Tomorrow I quit. For sure!

I was going to do some writing tonight, but now I can't be fagged.

They'll write that as my epitaph. He couldn't be fagged. I'm a lazy fucking bastard...

All of my school report cards. Christian is a boy of such great aptitude. Maybe one day he might decide to use it.

Actually, a couple read, A very excellent student. It's amazing what happens when you have good teachers in subjects you like.

But all of the rest...

Shane's on his way home with Nandos. The trolley dolly couldn't have been great. Never go out with a loaded gun, said Shane. He must have taken Viagra because it stayed hard. Shrug. But that's okay.

You know. Grimace. Air stewards? Always found them a bit girlie, myself. Not that there is any thing wrong with that, of course.