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Dreadlines
Jun 18, 2003

I think the fact that I'm writing this instead of the matter in hand sums it all up really...

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Hangover
Jul 4, 2002

Jesus.

It feels as though someone has tried to decapitate me with a cricket bat wrapped in a small dog.

It started with beer, and then we climbed onto the roof, watching the sun set on Parliament, sinking the whisky until well after dark.

Four stories up and no one thinks to look where the shouting is coming from.

We really are still young enough to know better.

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In anticipation of eating something scary
Jul 3, 2002

Tonight's the night. Some friends meeting up at a flat to drink and talk.

But something's different.

It's been lurking in the fridge ever since my sister gave it to me. She'd been for a break in Scotland, and returned with a present. Hard, dark-specked, the shape of a small rugby ball, it's become a bolus of anxiety that can't be swallowed.

I'll take it on the tube with me, the final jouney to Kennington, and I'll boil it on my mate's hob.

Haggis night.

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Yapping Dogs
Jul 2, 2002

My first entry is hardly momentous, but it may open a portal on what's going on in my back yard.

A mid air collision, bombs dropped on wedding parties and a rumble in Korea may prick at the calm of others, but round my way the greatest threat to peace, love and understanding is an unseen dog, only a few dozen yards away, which yaps plaintively for most of the daylight hours.

It's driving me crazy.

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