I'll make this snappy (if possible) since today is my dad's Birthday! I love you, Daddy although you never will read this blog...and haven't called you Daddy since you were six.
Elections, elections, elections - and no one's voting. Or considering the 'horror' of Lib Dems. No one seems to know whats going on. And I haven't seen one politician kiss a baby. Presposterous. This is the Liberal's Democrats chance to turn Britain round - into a better or blighted place, I'm not sure - yet Charles Kennedy can't get it up. Even proof of his humanity and his fertility doesn't seem to get us all excited for election tango. It's electile dysfunction, I say...
Apart from that, I've just a three day weekend. It was ok. I was just ignoring homework beckoning, teasing, like a drill trying to enter my brain. My mum came down and reminded me that my first exam was just over two weeks away, causing us both to panic - she's doing her Nursing Diploma and has an exam on the same day. To keep our minds off it, we and my bro went down to Covent Garden to just walk around, which is very hard to do when you're in Covent Garden with older eyes, cynical and dispossessed. There were all these cool antique books at the market...and this poor street performer who I forget his name was: he was great - swore a lot, did lots of gay innuendo. Then he managed to strip to his red leather thong, mount a 6ft tall skin head, and juggles knives and working chainsaws to the bemusement of the audience. He was cool.
....****.....******.......
(Drifted off, went to sleep, had a panic attack)
Anyway, its the next day. I had to wake up early, write a history and politics essay, because my family came over to celebrate and they're always loud. I'm not sure why I had the panic attack. I was finishing off this pack of bourbon biscuits in bed and suddenly I thought to myself I was getting fatter with every breath I took, so I tried to stop, but then I panicked and couldn't hold my breath for long then I would see shadows jump at me and I would be so terrified I'd have to breathe and I'd hate it cos i thought I was going to break the bed with my weight and I didn't want to ruin Dad's birthday with the knowledge his daughter was stark raving mad. So I tried to take a deep breath, failed, panicked, called Samaritans, when my chest began to hurt and I began to cry. Took me about half an hour to convince myself I could get up in the morning, and my chest still hurt when I got to sleep. So right now I have that achey tiredness where you're yawing for Britain and your limbs feel as if they've been battered to a purple pulp. But I'll be ok...this day is dead boring anyway!
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