Never woken up feeling worse. Didn’t drink, not ill. Just feel like I’m rotting away.
Horrid.
Dear Diary.
Sometimes I think that the e-conversation logs between Neil and I are the greatest living document ever unwittingly composed.
Sometimes.
(Source: honeysucculents, via existentrillest)
xglorious replied to your post: xglorious replied to your post: 29/05/2012 You…
Much like my life, my shoes are falling apart.
beat vans are sxy
xglorious replied to your post: 29/05/2012
You described my friends to the T that drink Red Stripe, haha, made my night.
you can always judge someone by a) the drink they drink and b) the quality of footwear they choose.
actually thats bollocks i’ve had six ups of coffee and can’t be trusted with a keyboard and the right to agency.
Everyday since the end I feel wrecked around 6pm. Got 8 cups (estimation) of coffee ready. Maybe a big sleep is in order.
Read Franz Kafka’s ‘The Metamorphosis’ on the train back to Leicester and it was also very good. Started on Jean Paul Sartre’s Nausea. Post exam funsie reading kick is going well. Its hard to come home from reading textbooks all day, then try to read some more for pleasure so its good to just read things for me. There is a serious gap in my experience when it comes to books but this year has put a bit of a change to that. Its not right to watch hundreds of films, scroll through hours of online media and never touch print. On my 15th book of the year, which to be fair includes a number of course prescribed ones, but compare that to about 2 or 3 books annually before the big two12 and its quite something.
Going to play some Zombie game, watch the Three Colours Trilogy and generally bum around. Its working for now.
Everything else gets more terrifying by the day.
So my parents drink red stripe and budweiser atm. I associate red stripe with goofy long haired festival dudes on pills and bud with frat bros. I associate neither with 60 year old chill middle class retirees.
But whatever works.
Went to Nan’s funeral. First funeral I’ve been to. It was odd, much more religious than i expected, with the priest repeatedly stressing constantly that we should consider our own mortality on this day, as well as making us read that classic psalm with the shadow of the valley of death line. It is a very good psalm. Whilst I was not at all comfortable with all of the religious ceremony I tried to follow it and say amen when prompted as I think that’s what Nan would have wanted. My parents say she became a late christian because “she was hedging her bets.” Fair enough. The speech about nan was quite nice, talking about how much she loved sherry and old legionaires clubs, and my dad read about a speech from my uncle in NZ, and got mad prawpz for doing so. Overall, it was not pleasant and the hot smell from the cremation made me particularly uneasy. My mum seemed to cope well but looked sad in her eyes.
Read Albert Camus’ ‘The Outsider’ on the way up, and apart from a being a fantastic short book about a man who tells only the truth and is honest always to himself, it felt particularly prescient at this time, and to parts of my life before it. I have not currently been executed for showing no emotion at the funeral, but the future is cloudy with a chance of meatballs.
constantly stuck between hating myself and thinking im the best thing on the fucking planet
(Source: dickfranceschi, via leechang-dong)
