Love in a Trashcan

This morning, I'm feeling tired, wearisome, a little perplexed even.

I was standing in the shower telling myself repeatedly: it's okay, there's no need for worrying, just do whatever comes naturally.

Maybes later, I'll write completely about my recent endeavours in ''love'', or giving oneself permission to do whatever the fuck one wants, or possibly numerous other things all depending on how the day unfolds.

Last night culminated in me splashing out on Amazon using the credit card, and buying several books, including I believe two by Hunter S. Thompson, one by Bukowski, On the road by Kerouac and Celine's masterpiece. I'm beginning to behave like a typical English student. -shrugs-

At least it makes me feel warm and happy inside; and I'm being true to myself [egotistical, see: A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle]. That's all that counts.

This reads very meloncholy. I suppose friday night left me a little bit confounded. Whatever.

I'm going to work to get more £££££££

-Michael