Hello.
How delightful.
I’m here in London, we are gonna watch The Wire. I cooked a poussin and deliberately made too many potatoes cos I knew Brian and Maddy would be hungry. Still I could have made more. I figured they’d be fed. I left them as they ordered food at Waterside with their shisha.
In retrospect I should have bought a whole chicken. I had not expected hungry people, I just wanted to make sure there were nommy potatoes because I know how them and gravy can cause heart palpitations with the right audience.
A tiny poussin is a tiny thing. I thought it would just be mine but it ended up going three ways. And I very slightly capped my finger with a potato peeler of all things. My right hand index finger. It’s just a sliver of flesh sheared away. Good Christ I’ve seen all sorts connected to that. We are a remarkable machine. A machine that learns how to heal itself.
I think back over the times I’ve worried about my health. Most of those times, my body has coped. I recently went to the doctor and cut a skin tag off myself after clarifying with them that it wasn’t going to make me go septic. Fucker needed to go. I used a consultation spot to ask about my blepharitis. I once before had it bad. Had erithromycin for my bad tooth. At the same time I munched a boat load of MDMA. It was Latitude. I was working through some… stuff. I still remember meeting some heavyweights in the industry and observing how remarkable air feels on skin, basically being clueless and exposed. Either the antibiotic or the mdma cleared my eyes. I looked human in front of human employish peoples.
That’s kind of ok. That’s how I’ve processed it. A good actor is … clueless and exposed, like I was. I’m largely going to avoid drugs going forward. Nice to think my blepharitis might have been solved with my Ecstasy. It was at the same time as the antibiotics so who knows, eh?
Bed bed bed. Why do I have to to attempt to be coherent?
Here let me dance for you. If this blog was in any way monetised I would lean into this. Maybe that’s something for me to work on.
Na na na
Boo boo boo
Wang kang bing
Poo poo poo
*again*
Na naa ngah
Buoo boo bim
Wak kack funk
BLUE BLUE BLUE
I’m fine. I’m fine. It’s all fine. I’m fine. Why would I not be fine? Fine, that’s me. Mister Finey Face, that’s what they call me, yeah? Yeah. Yeah! Yeah? Great.
Paragraph about something different.
Witty finish.
Yeaaaah.. Ha.
I’M SAD.
AlBarclay 