onemorepanic

Hello to you. Mister, misses person.

Or rather, dear journal, how are you? Are you beautiful, disgusted or brilliant?
Can you know peace and eat it too?
Are you inappropriate with perversity in mind?
I know I am. And the possibilities are killing me.

Japanese bondage flicks on the televisual unit, cheese coated muzak from the mid-nineties, Newcastle Brown Ale and a rather unsettling ebay vinyl addiction are tonight's distractions. An evening of enjoyable slaving behind me (to pay for the ebay bills of course) and two individuals that i'll shroud anonymous headed my way via automoblic persistence to my empty households encasing. Except for me of course, and how the beer is good and the ropes around the young asians legs are tight.

Happy, I admit, unproductive my guilt. A balancing act without checks and balances. Just bruise along, look back until I realize I'm only hurting myself, swear off all dwelling, arrive at the same location several hours later. Brain damage disguised as introspection.
Dreams just being that, dreams.

I need turntables. Christmas shall provide ability to procure with that bonus and relative equation.