This christmas has been all about the animals that aren't real. My stress excema has spread right up to my shoulders. I have developed an interest in self-destruction, and am also morbidly afraid of eating sheeps intestines again.
I am currently reading BBC news and trying to be interested in current affairs but actually I'm just wondering whether it's gin time and whether I should watch tv while drinking, cos I sure as hell can't listen to the Silver Jews alone in the spare room again.
This is all for now. I will write more when I cure my chronic laziness/go back to London/do something interesting/sort my head out.
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