I've already wrote a letter today so might be I'm exhausted of the written word and tomorrow promised to start early, yes, very early indeed. Yet I still had this urge to write something down. I'm not really sure what, but sometimes it's just is - emotions without explanations and images without any meaning.
One more happy birthday goes to Bubble, yet I've been there and it made me realize how different are the social circles I'm in. And I miss those other ones, to be frank. No, Bubble, you are great, of course.
Honesty and dishonesty and karma and I met so many people today, heard so many stories and first I have to sleep on it to make conclusions, but it seems I'm not so much an asshole anymore. Aye, no need to applause, thank you. And I'm not really sure whether this is being me or whether this is a mask. Confusion.
My new scar got infected a little, they might cut off my arm soon. (you never know in London) So next week I'll start digging Ableton and hopefully will come up with some results. Five and a half days or hundred and twenty seven hours left till L. shows up and I'll be off to dream one of those fucked up dreams.
That's how life looks like.
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