There's only be one actual smile on record and that was Tom Ford in 2001

I'm sorry it's been so long. Been doing a lot and a little. Mostly little, but it felt like a lot.

I'm ready to get this off my chest now.

You don't get to do what you're doing but you're doing it anyway, and I'm too weak to stop you. The only thing I hate more than you is how you make me feel. But then I don't hate you. I'm not sure I've got it in me to hate you. Because you are just like me. You're pragmatic. You're logical.

It's all about the logic. Our logic. You subscribe to the (logical) belief that you are not one to love, or be loved. That you've been cursed, maybe by circumstance, or by choice, or by both, to live a life completely without attraction, or being attractive, at least on an intellectual level. So you take all the love you can get. You've decided to make the most of your curse.

I'm scared because I don't blame you.

What scares me most, however, is that I stand to become, by our logic, just like you. And that in doing so I stand to make someone feel as completely and utterly alone as you've made me feel. And that, by that point, I'll be so numb that I won't care.

"My love for you, this love, is sick".

You wrote the poem but you made them my words.

ME WANTEY.

This is for "all the blog entries you write but never post".

Yep.

I always find blog posts that are simply song lyrics incredibly self-absorbed (unless there's an incredibly good reason).

But for the record there'd be a whole lot of Nude by Radiohead sprayed across here right now.

MMMMMMMMM I don't know.

Dolce and Gabbana - Time

Don't get angry at me.

But the less you speak the more you'll hear.

What I did today.

My spleen is the size of Brazil. I'm not allowed drink, drugs, sex, exercise, rock and roll, or anything that could be viewed as being entertaining in any way.

On the other hand, I've been catching up on my duct tape work. Done two Melbourne cup dresses, a "fragile" sticker ra-ra skirt with a bodiced woven top and a ridiculous fascinator and a fluro orange bobble skirt with a bandage fifth-element top. It's cool. I think. Maybe.

I just want to go home.