Sometimes it's so pointless hanging around men. The most productive thing you can do with them is: listen to music and look into the distance and think you're own thing about colours and textures; guess who the bimbos are? Been having a nice time with girlfriends this past month, theres less in the way, no dumb game inbetween. We havent thrown them over yet (donkeygiggle).
Point 2: i'm throwing in the towel, the hat, the shoe, the spanner, the whole work thing I've been doing this past year on airport road. have to tell the top dawgs. why am i letting it go? i'm sorry but with a twinkle of a misty thing in the eye: i've just run out of steam. just run out of it. i think i'll miss everyone and the bottle I used to suck out of, the seat i used to warm, the natgeo pic poster of the baby meerkat,...but it has to go. (i'm not following a certain scriptwriter to bombay to become superstar.)
Right now with the Goetheanam on the desktop, pearl jam's last kiss playing back, i ask as i teeter with a toothtip on the rim of a teacup: what does it take, whens that exact moment - that we've left childhood forever. when did we become terminally adult. We cant go back so don't go there. Maybe I'll lay my cousin and get it back. Apart from all that. Before I leave this blog and the city for good, there are a couple of entries that I've decided this space should show:

-The history, the fun and torture of the bra - (like what the fuck is a D cup?)
-All you need to know about chronic motion sickness
-My all new nightfixcap