It's really nothing new

I've got black coffee, an orange and a little hedgehog pill and this is called how I'm going to make it through the day. I can't read which rules out every one of the books cluttering up my couch and I left Kerouac feeling awkward next to a prostitute because I could no longer understand him. The majority of my films cannot be watched because the remaining ones are subtitled or monotone and I can't concentrate. I set myself a task this week, well two tasks actually. Task number one was scavenge around town for cheap dvds and maybe a pair of tights and not come home until I was exhausted and I had walked far enough to see something new. It's the task I usually set myself when I go to uni only with more turning up to lectures maybe. Task number two is chapter three. I printed it out, I pulled out the appropriate notebook and I scoured my floor for a decent pen. But can't read, can't write so I just type nonsense to assure myself I can still communicate. I'm spending most of my day hiding from my phone. In my dreams all it does it ring. In reality it beeps with another distant meaningless hey from someone more bored than I. I'm not sure what I'm waiting for to be honest but I appear to be doing so.

My new passport arrived. I am officially allowed to run away now. It's my insta-cheer up these days, calculating flight costs. I was slightly amused by the fact that if you fly to Paris on the 12th of February you could pay £130 and coming back on the 16th will cost you £180 with everything inbetween getting staggeringly high. But take a trip a week before and you'd pay £60 each way and gain more points by being unexpected and breaking expectations! I didn't even ask to see flights in Feb but there you go, it decided I should. I also laughed as I looked up football dates so I won't be surprised later and there's a game on Valentine's day. Parkhead holds some 60,000 odd (mostly) men. That's a lot of annoyed wives.

Oh bleh I need to hurry up and feel better, I made a goddamn list of things to do this week! I actually wrote it down, neat and concise and organised and bam I got the sniffles and my mum gets flu so I'm left making sure the house doesn't fall down. I hope I never have kids, let me tell you that now. I had the strangest dream last night that I can't even begin to describe. I swear it felt real. I was sat in my old sitting room, squeezed in with a bunch of other people I didn't know and we'd just been to a girl's funeral. I had a bunch of diaries in my hand that had been hers I think and her boyfriend was going to write a book but they kept slipping down the back of the sofa into a shelf of cobwebs and then I had an argument about Catholics, someone insisted I had to go down to buy milk and all I remember is the guy had purple in his hair and facial hair that shifted if you looked at him for too long at a time. Do you ever get that feeling when you've been looking at someone for too long and their face shifts into someone else? Like it's as if you've never really looked at them before because you know them too well and then you suddenly see what they look like and it's completely different from the way you know them? I kept getting that when I talked to him and I woke up annoyed but without a headache so that's something.