So Where was I?
I've been staring at this space for awhile now, long enough that I will not divulge such useless information that'll potentially embarrass myself.
The past couple of weeks or so have been comfortably busy for me. Not too little, not too much. I have so much to write I'm sure I'd forget at least half of it after typing out the first few sentences. It brings me great shame to say that it has happened before. No kidding.
I bought an overpriced notebook to jot down details that I might forget. Daily going ons, random phrases, one liners, conversations, names and numbers, quotes from books, and everything else. But what's the use of that when I constantly forget that I have a notebook to begin with? Well, at least I have something pretty and 'intellectual' looking lying around in my room to make me feel 'smart' and sort of 'responsible', no?
Today is my Irritable Day. Almost every other thing has irritated me on at least one occasion today. Those cinema copy DVDs my dad bought (few months earlier he bought a Blu-Ray player, go figure), shitty cigarettes, cold lasagna, driving, being forced to watch Hellboy 2 for the second time, my camera, the internet, my hair, the weather, well, should I go on?
I'm already starting to scratch that constellation of semi-invinsible micropimples on my forehead. If you knew me at all, you'd know that's a bad sign. And if I were to be holding up that sign, it'll say Back the Fuck Off, Fuckwad. And that's me being polite. Kind of.
I think I should stop here.
I'll be Bach soon.
