I can't draw for shit, but love looking at other peoples' drawings.
Because who am I kidding? After spending the day working in a hospital, I want to get home, wear tight leather pants and look at furry pictures.
I rent a place. The cold water tap on my bath doesn't work. What is my land-god thinking? Who wants to burn like a bastard in their bathtub? Thank goodness I have a shower too (with two working taps).
My mother still tells me that I have trouble tying my shoe laces. Only because it happened once in pre-primary school.
It's like the cover of a dvd. There is a back AND a front. An inside AND an outside. I only realised that a few days ago. It was profound. Like a good stew in the morning.
My doctor tells me that I'm addicted to sleeping tablets. But I told him it's not the tablets I'm addicted to - it's the SLEEP. It's like trying to play the drums with a hammer: It just doesn't sound good. It's horrible, you know? Like a movie you thought would be good, but it sucks.
Leaving the cinema, walking around the shopping mall disillusioned, walking aimlessly around in the car park trying to reconcile your expectations with the crap movie you just saw. Finally finding your car, lighting up a smoke as you drive off. And as you pass under the streetlights, and take another pull from your cigarette, you accept the truth: Indeed it was a shit movie.
It's a real slap in the face. It's like when you're in your kitchen, cooking steak, and suddenly a stranger busts through the back door, charges in, and tells you they're drunk.
God cries inconsolably when he looks down at me. But little does he know that I've been to hell and raped the devil. And I'd do it again, if I had to.
You lot are my heroes. So pick up your pencils (and your beers) and draw on!
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