Unwise.

When everybody knew what they wanted.
-Portishead.

Its 7 in the morning.I cant sleep.Hence the title.
I am back from Canada. Alot of people will be happy to know that it almost killed me.

If I could only get the fucking spellcheck to work on this fucking thing.I write to Metz and Miss Karen.They think that I am making it up as they seem to be able to fix it.

I,alas,cannot.

This is just another thing that wants to guide me handheld into a nervous breakdown.
Not being able to write my ass off up here is giving me stomach cancer.Or somthing.
Its fucking driving me mental.

“Why is it so important to have a spell check?” I hear you ask.

The answer, Oh genteel reader of my bile and glitter?

Your scribe is fuck all but an angry dyslexic who can’t type with an 8th grade education.

Charming, non?

Like I said.Unwise. And knowing my temper ( Foul,fast,distructive and violent) and the fact that this is not my computer I am gonna take leave of you now.

Try and imagine what my fat ass went through the last 30 days in the studio and know that even those of you with the most bitter of hearts and cruel minds will not even be touching the sides.

Not even close.

I got an album done.All else is static…….

M
7
x