Wondering when exactly it became fashionable for women to take pictures of themselves for social network sites in which they look like a startled but also slightly horny Bambi.
Watching and/or listening to: Stephen Fry, Dylan Moran, Bill Bailey, Russel Brand and people on par with their rhetoric might and comedic genius.
Wordsmithery.
Favorite Quote
How long is now?
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Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.
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Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.
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The doctor came in, sminking of gin.
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I wanted a perfect ending. Now I have learned the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end.
* So, yes -- death. [...] It is there, as a mode of force. Making you do things. Go and get a job! Go and find a flat! Find somebody else! Put them in the flat! Make them stay! Get a toaster! Go to work! Get on the bus! Look at your boss! Say "Fuck."! Say "Town."! Pick up the thing! Go blank! Scream internally! Go home! Listen to the radio! Look at the other person! Think: "Why, why did this happen?"! Go to bed! Lay awake, at night! Get up! Feel groggy. Put the things on, your clothes, whatever they are called! Go out the door! Into work. Same things. Same people again. It is real. It is happening to you. Home again. Sit! Radio. Duh, duh. GARDENING! GARDENING! GARDENING! Death.
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[...] so they know what the rest of adulthood feels like: Which is walking around in the desert, with a bag over your head, being bumped into by people, who rob you as they bore you.
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What lies behind us, and what lies before us, are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.
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