'I can't control them, they're like animals.'

Tonight started by learning two, 50's South American Advert Jingles with Bishop. Playing on the ZI-LA-PHONE (I'm aware this is spelt wrong, OK!? Continue) and singing the lyrics of these obscene adverts, with accents.

The gentlespoons then came in to greet the ladies. That's Ollie, Bertie and Lauren(s).. Yeah.
Shweet.. all our assessments are done!! Which means we could smoke and speak as loud as we liked without thinking of Stephen Douse's angry face, watching over us as we kill ourselves..

There was a bit of a stampeed in the kitchen at some point... for some reason, which I do not know. No, I do not know why. I do not.

Still tonight, am I adding to my playlist, list, list, for this weekend. Sheet moosik for shweet saturday night?

It's 00:32 and I'm still in my clothes. I should be in snuggly, snuggly PigJarmars. Snooze socks.

I've got a tube of tinfoil ready for a day of impro/story telling/radio play... oh and my harmonica.
Dear me.

I should sleep.

Just a short blog tonight it seems. Listening to Moby - Why does my heart feel so bad?
Is good, yah?

I have back-ache. And I just consumed a whole packet of ROUGH OATCAKES!!
Bit dry but a good amount of salt.

Brush tooths!
Change clothes!
Lock door!
Turn laptop off!
Set alarm!
Think!
Think a bit more!
Think about sleeping!
Sleep.
Wake.
FUCK WHERE ARE MY BLACKS?

That was not a racist remark about dark skinned people! I am a drama student and we call our black clothing, for short, "blacks."