The bastards have a dirty fascination with heaters and moist atmospheres. They are the quientessential reason we have no gas left on the planet, no...maybe not. But quite seriously, their very liberal with the consumption of resources, its doing my head in.

i really want a small room in some house with rich german kids, with trust funds so well spun around their fortunes, and white american teeth...so i can be their foreign oddity who says 'fuck', 'fucking', 'cunt'....what else... an oddity a treasure, and treasure is rare. Besides, it's a better stage to manipulate from. I mean i can introduce drinking games, indeed, there isn't much thought involved in these games, namely you drink, and primarily you get shitfaced and raise nothing else but sweet fuck all. They seem to get drunk here, alcohol's an everyday thing of pasttime likes etc, is this wrong? it seems absurd. Drinking to utter and total consumption of the inhibitions doesn't appear to occur very much here. In a way i can't help but give this to a lose of merriment, a giving to moist atmospheres, and half inclined sobriety. I need dry, cold air... cold dry climates, i think i'm still looking, i want the ice to crystallize on my lips, i want heat to be a legend. A great hangover is a symbiont to a an African tonic, whose properties, miniscule,never the less allow you to fool yourself into believing you shan't die, wheather it be a mosquito bit or a tiger bite (theres tigers in africa, i've seen them!)Essentially, a clear conscience, or the sense of utter, complete, total destruction of the physical, is essntial to clean unpalatable thoughts.

There is niether a commited destruction of the phyical or a great hangover here, something still seems to be clutching to a corpse that 'ought to have been cremated long ago. Will give it a nice pier, at least only to silence the generations of the past 800 years or so years or something. Peace is a prequial to sluggishness (oh my god, i hate...whoops i stopped writing, thought lost, ostensible(i'll have to look that word up, so it seems i have clue what i'm talking about... or at least have a mind to commit a string of words, a be more then just a frightful dictionary, heavens no!) i trust this is the devine or whatevers intervention on my behalf...theres several other pages of writing but i'm tired, i want to sleep, but not in a hostel bed, i don't like them, someone give me a home!