Pukka-–adjectiveAnglo-Indian.
genuine, reliable, or good; proper.
I watched a German film last night called The Lives of Others.It was long, slowish but excellent. Watch it.
My fucking printer won't stop printing out alignment pages and then it makes me scan them in and tells me the pages can't be detected and that alignment has, once again, failed. Soon I'll have enough to wallpaper my room. It's seriously quite hilarious, the futility of the whole process, I feel like giving it a raisin- the printer I mean. I don't know why I don't just cancel the alignments.
Raisins are terribly tragic, I suppose it could be applied to dried fruit in general but for the sake of this rant I'm employing the use of the raisin sorta like the ambassador for the common fruit; baked and shrunken to a codensced, shriveled version of itself, a vessel of supressed saturated sweetness and-
enough with raisins!
pathetic bastards.
no one even likes raisins, I don't think. they're what you eat if you don't have sugar at home or you wanna liven up your muesli.
LISTEN.
I have something important to say somewhere and I think if I start I might actually get some of it out.
I turn 19 in a few weeks. Just under 6 actually.I can't help but think that I have under 6 weeks to live It's absolutely crazy, naturally. There's no surprise there or in the mobidity of the revelation of impending doom or for that matter (if we want to be wholistic in my incrimination and judgement)the feeling of impendng doom itself. Matter. That's what i'm saying, things have to matter (barely managed to grab the thread there.)Everthing matters when you have a deadline and this matter is like thick and buttery batter. I have to connect to everyone and everything because connection is sacred and it means you exist, and I have to for what I have to do. which brings me to the point or, more likely, just a point: I need a check list of things to do before I turn 19. Is it banal, hackeneyed and done to death. yes yes yes yes yes. but that, and here, an argument so unapologetically philistine that if you forgive me for it it must be love or something worse, is life.
So, first on the list, if Fatima invites me over this weekend is to learn to play the piano version of smells like teen spirit.
but that's all i've got so you're going to have to step up, yea.
with the lights out it's less dangerous
Here we are now, entertain us
I feel stupid and contagious
Here we are now, entertain us
