You've got the universe reclining in your hair
2003-01-03 || 3:01 p.m.

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. I am sick. Again. Boring. I have so much stuff on my chest I fear it will drown me.

I've had further thoughts on possible career changes for the New Year. Industrial goth clad-in-black lap dancing medium. I wonder, is there a niche in the market for that?

I've just had a bath of sylvia plath type temperature. I lay in the bath with the CD player balanced on the kitchen bin, with one leg slung out of the side - a small gesture at regulating my temperature as I'm presently hallucinating and sitting in a bath that would have burnt Princess Margaret. And there I am listening to Marc because damn it I love him and he was so perfect, and I'm sick and I just want Marc to comfort me with his beautiful words.

And I think with all these multiple entry days I really should consider a weblog style diary.