Journeyman Thoughtmolester

It feels a bit weird coming home to an apartment after three weeks lost. The imprint left by my actions of last month are still present. I had asked me mum to call the cleaner, but I spose she has bin 2 busy as of late.

The parents picked me up from the airport. I went to their house and drank some of my dad's rum and disclosed too much information about my most recent exploits @ work. Soon after, he gave me a lift home.

I always remembers the first smell of this place: Wood. There are way too many lights in here. I must have spent my last day here last month cleaning, as things seem to be in tune with my sense of order and so undisturbed. Papers and plastics placed purposely perplexed. Mostly, I just leaves the kitchen light on. Sometimes just the one from the stove.

I pour myself a stiff drink of gin. It is 10:19 in Shellberta so I'm not ready for dreamwork yet. I left my Ipod here accidently the last time I left. I spent the last 20 daze hearing what most people hear. I am now realizing that most of my sentences begin with I. I think country music is the most depressing shite that I have ever heard. I am surprised that the suicide rate is not higher in the oil patch.

Now I am beginning to feel better. It is totally a side effect of the liquor. When I pressed play on my ipod sleeping in my radio the album that played was "D-Sides" by Gorillaz. Did not even know it was there. I am downloading the Blur discography now to give it a second chance. Am drunk enough now....