SCRAPBOOKS FULL OF ME IN THE BACKGROUND

It’s a long way home and I almost forgot that I had a blog. Train blogging. Hello, reader. Sorry for treating you like my neopet that I left to die six or seven years ago. I checked on it’s status the other day. Not dead, just starving.

I didn’t know that virtual pets never died.

There’s a baby doing a weird scratchy groan a few rows of seats ahead of me. GcHuuuuurnh over and over. I can see the father. He has chinese symbols on the back of his neck.

I pass no judgment, but my headphones are in, but I’m listening to Bright Eyes (specifically the Fevers and Mirrors album), but there’s an article near me that I’ll start reading in a second called ‘When’s the best time to have a baby?’

Not now. Not yet.

(well, I dragged your ghost across the country) pulsing in my ears.

I just spent the past few days down in Somerset. It was sunny, I was wearing my factor 50+.

And we argued a hell of a lot. A lot a lot a lot. I’m like a whine sometimes, a balloon slowly deflating. Fart noise with my mouth, but it’s OK in the end and we carry on.

There’s never been a more perfect moment to listen to the Libertines, The HaHa Wall. I thought I might have killed it for me in the ESSAYHAZE. I listened to it + campaign of hate about 500 times. They are anthems of dirge. Still not dirty enough for you.

There’s so much green everywhere. Cows. Stones. And a pile of clothes. Scattered clothes somewhere on the line between cheltenham...specifically, Birmingham. B31. Was it a body? Should I phone the police?

I’ve already seen the police once this past week, housemate went crazy. I was eating cold porridge in the kitchen, there were screams.

And there’s a pile of clothes next to the train line. I think.

I was in Taunton yesterday. My boyfriend was in college and I thought it would be fun to spend my time reading Robert Browning in a skin burn park. You should read Porphyria’s Lover. It’s beautiful. All this

OOOOOOHAH, ....UNDERTAKERS WON’T HAVE ANY TIME FOR YOU. OH! A PROBLEM BECOMES A PROBLEM WHEN YOU LIE TO YOUR FOLKS, WHEN YOU LIE TO YOUR PEOPLE, WHEN YOU LIE TO YOURSELF

the saga. libertines.

yeah. All this.