teyla

I've been so fucking creative lately. Here are my new (second hand) shoes.

BEFORE:



AFTER:



I've also dyed my hair:



And baked my own organic bread. It actually tastes so much better than the shit I used to by, and it's dead cheap too to bake your own.



The night when you're supposed to make a big fire and get wasted came. But there was nothing decent to do downtown. As the night came along, I started to feel panic creeping closer. I felt a bit pathetic and lonely. But Al Gore saved my night, channel 4 showed his excellent movie An inconvenient truth. Best fucking slideshow I've ever seen.



Then labour day. How depressing. I hate to go to marches alone, and I did that quite a bit when I was a teenager. And nowadays, I'm also sceptical to the whole concept. Sure, we need to come together and stick it to the man, but do we have to pretend that we love each other? "Comrades, we have gathered here today to BLAH BLAH BLAH", and solidarity and all that shit. OK, it's possible that I don't really hate people. But I just can't stand those big words. They just want to give us the illusion that we belong somewhere. But I'm not your fucking sister! OK, I guess the problem is me. Whatever.

But yes, I had forgotten how nice it is with black flags and samba rhytmhs. And that anarchists are quite cute. I bumped into My who I went to school with three years ago. It was nice, but I lost her in the crowd, and when I caught sight of her later I didn't dare to join her again. It just felt wrong. I'm wrong. I'm a social catastrophy. Oh wait, the problem can't be me since I've got some great friends that I've managed to stick to. Because they're great. Yeah.

Other people having fun:







My goal for the night was to get wasted, I felt kind of desperate. I just wanted to throw myself away, really. I went alone to a fucking pub, met some people and got free beer. Yeah, I had a good time before the guards threw me out just when it was my turn to sing karaoke. God, I'm pathetic. This guy followed me home, fucking loser. No fun to wake up with a stranger on your couch.

Anyway, he left me his phone number. Happy me. I asked myself if I shouldn't give people a chance, but the answer is: HELL NO! Why on earth would I? God, I hate men. They always end up touching me, sometimes in a quite innocent way so you can't really hit them. Who the fuck are they to hold my hand? Why the fuck would I want that? God, I miss Davis. He didn't as much as touch me before I had told him that I loved him. Even though we were drunk and slept in the same bed. A gentleman, he was. They used to call him Mr Darcy!

AND NOW I'M FUCKING HOMELESS! More about that later. I've got some wicked stuff going on. I'll show you!