I Have Ran Everyday For A Year…
I made it a year in my run streak tonight. It’s all going good. I’m gonna keep going for as long as I can. Try to keep enjoying shit. That’s all that I care about.
Enjoying life. It’s too short to take everything too seriously.
Booze makes me take life too seriously. I loosen up with it in my veins , do silly shit and then brood over the calamities that it’s inspired in my life. If I’m gonna do silly shit, I’m capable of it without a drink in me.
If your inhibitions are killing you and you want to live, you’ll find a better way to be if you hold on.
I’m relaxing or something. Or becoming less of a pain in the hole.
Last week I was running home from the place I’m freelancing in in North London and I almost ran into a guy at a street corner in Stoke Newington. He apologised profusely but it was one of those 50/50 situations where shit happens.
I responded quickly with “No, it’s OK. It was my fault’ and we both waved.
Normally I would have seethed “Hoy cunt! I’m on a holy mission here. Why are you getting in my way?!?” at him but this time I did not. I guess I’m getting old and boring.
I’m happy to be old and boring.
This makes this blog boring, but fuck it. I will take being boring and happy. The drunken madman within me is dormant for now and I’m trying to knife him when he’s asleep but I don’t know which part of me to stab.
Possibly the arse as that’s where we both talk out of.
Anyway, merry Christmas you fucking harlots. I hope you all die choking on a Lindor ball to Noddy Holder singing that fucking horrendous Christmas cunt classic.