Out of the blue

..comes anxiety and takes you by the throat and your skin turns grey. An elegant shade of grey that serves as a backdrop to your moth that mumbels, your blue eyes that loose focus and it gives a place of origin to those sounds, like:

I am sorry.

Don't keep telling that to your self.

Lets eat something.

I am smoking again. I am fat like never before and I am back at the awful habbit of putting burning cigarettes into my mouth.

The mother of my friend died.

And I would like to smoke another cigarette and I would like to hold my mother and not speak bitternes with her but take her to the Eden Project and other places she wants to go while she is alive.

It is a thin white line that connects us to the rest of humanity, it is so fragile.
I go to Tesco.
She goes to Tesco.
Life.

I am in london in a non-smoking hotelroom and I started smoking again with my lover. Every time I desire a fag I have to dress my fat body and go down the stairs, out on the cold street to join all the other loosers.

He is falling asleep.
I cant help but waste time.

Some people said that they read this, and that was really nice, so I thought I would share some thoughts.

I am sorry they were a bit selfindulgent.
But it is difficult times ahead and that creates less inspiering blog entries.

But to make it up to you I will insert a picture, you children of visual culture will be sure to enjoy.

Sorry didn't work.