THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
Fuck, is it ever good to be home. I can't even tell you.
I got up at four in the morning in Washington D.C. (long story) and just had to survive a five hour flight in which I listened to all of the Distillers CDs (in order), Lars Frederiksen, The Dead Kennedys, Anti-Flag, The Unseen, Minor Threat....and, uh....Something else.
I guess some things never really change.
Oi. Sorry, I pretty out of it at the moment.....Even typing feels weird after three weeks of...nothing.
And, yeah, I'm gonna go and babble endlessly about how boring England is, how pretty Ireland is, and how much I hate my family.
But right now I need to re-adjust time zones.....
So I'll go through the slightly daunting task of reading all of my notes and reading everyone's entries....From the past three weeks....
Fuck. I hate everything.
On the material side of things, I did come home with approx. nine new CDs, a new sweatshirt, the most fucking awesome plaid hightops ever, another militart jacket (from the English military), a pair of docs from a thrift store, and two books richer....So I can't really complain.
Sort of.