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Isn’t it all futile? Does anything matter, really? This planet will collapse in on itself one day. We are all stardust.
How the f ucking crikey cobblers c unty bollox did we lose to Reading? Losing to Spurs is fine, we’ll be champions. Losing to a packet of Bourbons means we going all Bordeaux. Spiritually.
Life begins at the hop, boys and girls.
Make this life of rollercoasters a fun one for all, don’t be a c unt.
In this short existence. Given I live a land of plenty. I’m not oppressed nor am I impressed and can write shite and talk bollocks. Especially after a litre of Sherry:
What makes your life bearable. Beyond , family, friends and all that. What goes on in your head. On your own. At 3.27 am.
I can honestly say it’s about XTC. Not Rangers, love them that I do.
I woke up the other night and could’ve sworn that Andy Partridge was shaving our dog.
We don’t have a dog.
My simple pleasure is getting to the end without being interrupted.
We come from it , we go to it. Empires build, they crumble. It’s all going to end in, nothing.
It’s all experience. Clouded by those who wish us no light but for themselves. They too will end up being scattered in the vast, unerring blackness of the untold empty sky.
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