i've been thirsty. there doesn't seem a reason for it, but i have. my mouth is always gooey, overcompensating. such is life i suppose, an over compensating gooey mouth.
but that is neither here nor there.
peeping tom is here and there, cold and hot, coming and going. he is and he's not, it seems. he's special and ordinary. the other day i told him i was full and empty. he said that it couldnt be, little does he know that he is just the same, full and empty.
in the interest of saving time, i've got the sun coming at me through a bitumen. it is only a mesh curtain in reality, but i can still feel my forhead singing.
i have been watching 'last tango in paris'. i think i'm developing rather a crush on bertolucci.
this is superbly cathartic. i'm going for some poach'ds now.