Pissing Away The Days

It's late, after midnight. It's cold, the open fire has died down and it is freezing outside. Fucken monkey nuts out there. I must go out and get more wood.

Today, I got up at 12.00, went back to bed because I was cold to watch TV, and fell asleep. I woke up when it was dark again, watched Pimp my Car and Angry Boys, nuyer and ate apples. I woke up at 8pm'ish to chewed apple cores on the floor boards.

Missy is curled up on the couch next to me.
I'm smoking inside, breaking one of the house rules.

I'm watching TV. I love the ABC, I actually say out loud. And I instantly think I have turned into my mother. I watched Judith Lucy, the story of the Titanic, two gorgeous surfer boys travelling the world, even fat old Tony Curtis, although Pamella Stephenson is awful.

I'm pissing the days away at the moment, for sure. Vampire hours come to me so easily. Everybody is starting to ask me if I am thinking about getting a job. None more so than Sam. Good on him for being honest, but he doesn't want a broke boyfriend, who can't do stuff. He wants to go to New York in the foreseeable future, come on get your act together, he says.

I've been glued to my computer this week, writing furiously, but as always, I'm jumping from one thing to another and I have no real out put to show for it.
I've spent plenty of time looking at pretty boys on the net though, gasp! I know you are all shocked by that. I guess it's in our DNA, what would we call it? A strong image appreciation gene.

I've been playing "Valarie" in the back ground as I type, poor Amy. Her voice was the last great musical revelation that I can remember. I was in a music shop and they were playing "Valarie" and I listened to her, forcing me to go over to the desk when she had finished and ask, "Who is that incredible singer?"

I should go and live in Paris and learn French.