Have you ever wondered where Elvis Presley got his moves from?
once upon a time there was a story that began
thursday morning, very early, behind me jumps agyness deyn in a cut-out newspaper article adorning my wall with her winklepickers, that i hasten to add aren't liked by everyone. my girlfriend's face looks at me with her big blues and i wish she was here. brushing my teeth i looked in the mirror and thought 'not all that and a bag of chips' and my hair needs a wash.
parents are odd. this easter we argued. a delightful battle royale to the death. apart from there was of course no death involved, only shouting and homophobic rants. firstly i must explain i am far from putting myself in a box labelled gay straight bi. that's not me. but i have a girlfriend and this is a concept too difficult for my parents to understand. thus cut to various scenes of arguing, storming out, hysteria (great basis for a film) and here i sit wondering whether i can go home this weekend or to make other arrangements. in any case other arrangements have been made.
yaawn, sleep or arthur miller essay? i think he would have thought 'fuck it, catch some zzz's'. actually, who knows what he would have thought. snoooze. this is probably a load of bollocks, and youre reading and thinking, what the fuck?! why should i read this crap? well
to be honest
i dont know. first blog and all. early morning. we'll see how things pan out. for now.
'smashing. we're all pals together again.'
-e.w.
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