The following is a series of extracts from emails I've sent to a good friend of mine. Name's have been changed for protection of the innocent:
So where to begin?
So where to begin?
Well, my friday night's have tended to go one way or another, being alone or being with friends, but this entire week had been like that. My social mode had kicked into some sort of warped degree that I was expecting to wake up by the end of the week as some form of socialised mutant who's lust for conversing would not only quench my thirst but turn me even to a greater malformed creature. But luckily that didn't happen or hasn't happened...yet
Earlier during the week, Monday, I had lied to M about attending the Full Moon Drumming, claiming, oh I'll be with a friend in Sydney and her reaction was more or less 'Laaaaaaaaaaameeee', a sentiment which she used often if I had backed out or had mention something that was, indeed, lame. M, for those joining the delusionally narcissistic TV show that is my life, is a friend who's coloured hair, piercings and use of the word 'babe' had begun to be a breath of fresh air, which would ostensibly be taken away after the light of a cigarette; a common hobby for those with the aforementioned metal-in-the-face and chemicals-in-the-hair. She bit me. We are now friends.
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| My actual arm, her actual bite. My actual stupidity. |
