Wooo, New tattoo, almost finished. It looks amazing, just got to get the lilies finished, and then some shading to tie it all together, and then I'll post pictures of what could well be the sexiest tattoo ever created.
New Tattoos are great. I feel like I've got my head nicely rebooted, which is another good step towards getting the hell over Kelly, who has truly kickd my arse.
I would sorely love to give you lowdown on what happened, but I have no idea. We might still be sort of seeing each other? And this might just be down to her moodswings? Or I could be living in a fucking dream world?
Who knows, I'm battered, and completely demoralised. Not even Sun Tzu can help me now.
Pretty girls are taking me to Brighton this weekend, to cheer me up with more Pretty Girls.
I will most likely spend my time sulking like a recaltriciant twelve year old, pouting and stamping my feet. "But I want that one!"
So, with that rather glorious image in mind, let's look at how else I'm dealing with these strange human emotions.
Death From Above 1979 - Oh Yes. DFA represent to me the absolute distillation of every bad boy instinct I've ever had. It's shouting screaming fist fighting action, full of the kind of malignant boyhood that holds your hand, looks you in the eyes and says;
"You can love me, but you can't trust me."
It is broken glass, manifestos of love scrawled onto the back of exercise books, spilt whiskey, and the neighbours car driven through the front door. Fuck yeah.
The Graduate - This is probably the most disturbing book I've ever read. I'm driven by a need to do something, which will occasionally lead to bouts of self doubt and worry that I'm achieving fuck all with my life.
Reading The Graduate makes me flinch, because I recognise In Benjamin Braddock same behaviour in me when I was younger before I got a little more galvanised, although thankfully I never busted up a wedding out of sheer malaise. I recommend it for everyone.
Chin Ups - When all else fails, when I'm stuck staring at the wall; suprressing the urge to ring her and ask her all the questions I will never get the answers to; and tell her all the things I will never get a chance to - Chin Ups Understand.
I lift and lift until my forearms go numb and my body starts to panic. I feel my adrenalin spike and my heart rate get serious. When i can't haul the dead weight of my carcass up on my arms any more, I jump up and start to lower myself back down as slowly as I can manage.
Eventually my arms give out entirely, left numb and dead, I'm unable to make a fist - Like I've taken handfuls of pills.
Chin ups are an exercise in failure. You try your hardest, but you will still fail. No matter your conviction or effort, you will fail.
You must learn to acept failure. I am so channelling Nietzsche right now.
Right, time to sleep the sleep of the damned...
New Tattoos are great. I feel like I've got my head nicely rebooted, which is another good step towards getting the hell over Kelly, who has truly kickd my arse.
I would sorely love to give you lowdown on what happened, but I have no idea. We might still be sort of seeing each other? And this might just be down to her moodswings? Or I could be living in a fucking dream world?
Who knows, I'm battered, and completely demoralised. Not even Sun Tzu can help me now.
Pretty girls are taking me to Brighton this weekend, to cheer me up with more Pretty Girls.
I will most likely spend my time sulking like a recaltriciant twelve year old, pouting and stamping my feet. "But I want that one!"
So, with that rather glorious image in mind, let's look at how else I'm dealing with these strange human emotions.
Death From Above 1979 - Oh Yes. DFA represent to me the absolute distillation of every bad boy instinct I've ever had. It's shouting screaming fist fighting action, full of the kind of malignant boyhood that holds your hand, looks you in the eyes and says;
"You can love me, but you can't trust me."
It is broken glass, manifestos of love scrawled onto the back of exercise books, spilt whiskey, and the neighbours car driven through the front door. Fuck yeah.
The Graduate - This is probably the most disturbing book I've ever read. I'm driven by a need to do something, which will occasionally lead to bouts of self doubt and worry that I'm achieving fuck all with my life.
Reading The Graduate makes me flinch, because I recognise In Benjamin Braddock same behaviour in me when I was younger before I got a little more galvanised, although thankfully I never busted up a wedding out of sheer malaise. I recommend it for everyone.
Chin Ups - When all else fails, when I'm stuck staring at the wall; suprressing the urge to ring her and ask her all the questions I will never get the answers to; and tell her all the things I will never get a chance to - Chin Ups Understand.
I lift and lift until my forearms go numb and my body starts to panic. I feel my adrenalin spike and my heart rate get serious. When i can't haul the dead weight of my carcass up on my arms any more, I jump up and start to lower myself back down as slowly as I can manage.
Eventually my arms give out entirely, left numb and dead, I'm unable to make a fist - Like I've taken handfuls of pills.
Chin ups are an exercise in failure. You try your hardest, but you will still fail. No matter your conviction or effort, you will fail.
You must learn to acept failure. I am so channelling Nietzsche right now.
Right, time to sleep the sleep of the damned...
johnnyforeigner:
OK dude, once it's written and published, a copy of my advice book on the opposite sex - Women: OMG, Dude, WTF?!? - will be winging it's way to you. Sit tight till then 