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Tel Quel

je sais bien mai quand même

I suppose I was visibly upset and for a moment I might have stopped trying altogether. Being talent-impaired in general, when it comes to certain things that I might be adept in, either I’m (hoping to be) the best or (resigned to being) a wallflower. No amount of Kate Nash or We are Scientists or my own unintelligent input could take me out of this strange feeling of overwhelming _____. (Like two nights ago, when I stepped on a grazing snail by accident) Wallflower apologizes, very heartfeltedly.

Maybe it was my bad eye or my bad hands, or just plain bad fengshui. Wind, water, fire, heart, magnesium whatever – not cooperating at all. So in classic Dandy style, I purged my blighted, blighted heart in the promises of M.Os, behavioural studies and other forensic paraphernalia (which I paid for dearly in terms of nightmares and REM x 1000),
Morality and mortality at it’s daily prime.

That was last night. I’m okay today.

It’s just work and the abysmal cold, and the people, queer as folk (you don’t say). They like to touch things and peel things and press things, and make irrelevant comment(s) “Whatever’s displayed should be for sale”. Society is not a spectred mass of consumerist culture, it’s far more quantifiable than that, having the consistency of a congealed, slow-moving, unicellulared thing. Like a slab of stale butter.

Oh no, I’m becoming a sociopath

The one thing better than macaroni and cheese is macaroni and peas. I love peas, and soup. With soup. I hope this lasts me until the retarded shift ends. Can’t remember how I previously coped with three consecutive days for four months. Twice a week and I already have major cabin fever. I could do strength and conditioning in the store and pray nobody reports me.

Anyway, it’s going to be a good day poupee


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