I’m the kind of mood where I just want to sit here and write…
I’m out on the front porch, it’s actually quite cold, and overcast, but I have a blanket about my shoulders, a laptop in my lap, and cigarettes besides me… I feel quite “Artsy”. Oh yeah and of course I have some Wainwright playing in the background “Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk”. So I’m quite content sitting here and writing away… don’t expect anything deeply moving, or ground-shaking, it’s mostly self-indulgent shite to be quite honest. I need to pee.
I’m back… with a nice warm mug of chai in hand too. (I hope you don’t mind the real-time thing I’ve got going on here). I just need to vent, and the best way to vent is to write, and to write as it comes. It was actually an ex of mine who got me into blogging, and now I consider it something uniquely mine… though I know that millions of people world over blog… I like to think that I have my own little corner of the internet, my dear little void, that is mine and mine only.
I feel like a marmalade sandwich, and some chocolate… and I just noticed that I only have one cigarette left, so it’ll be back to the rollies for me again, at least until next week. I can barely afford anything at the moment. My health is deteriorating rapidly, yet I can’t afford medication, or the doctor’s fees. And I have basically no food, pay day is on wednesday, but every single dollar will be going on rent and bills, and kitten food if I have any left over. Is that what it feels like to live the life bohème? Broke, hungry, ill, but artistically awake?
I think I’ll go inside for abit, it’s getting cold… next post will be coming soon, it’ll be better, I promise