I’m On A Roll.
I’ve been running like a cunt I guess since we last caught up you fucking awful brutes.
Every day for over 8 months now
I bought myself the Garmin Fenix 3 on Monday. I’m only using one data field on it. Distance. I’ve turned off Auto Lap. Even the timer has gone. I don’t care about splits. Heart rate. Cadence. Even time elapsed. This watch can tell me almost everything but I only need the compass and the distance I’ve travelled.
This watch does not beep at me. Technology is meant to free you up.
I cancelled my gym membership. I don’t want to go to a place full of grunters and protein farts. If this offends you, I hope you collapse with your hands bound into a swimming pool and your fucking lungs burst with chlorine. Woof, sir.
I can’t be fucked with injecting steroids into my cock to get washboard abs. I’ve left society. I never liked society. With it’s Nectar Points, it’s Wine O’Clock and self loathing as salvation.
I got my head shaved again on Monday. I look terrible with it but I’ve lost the fear. I’ve become like a soft, special-needs Travis Bickle.
I’m on a roll! I’m on a roll!
I haven’t shit myself since the night of the Brown Legs back in May. I only trust a fart if my legs are dangling over the edge of a toilet.
I’m eating a kilogram of strawberries for breakfast most days. This usually makes me shit by noon. I buy the imperfect strawberries from Tesco. They are cheap as hell and it’s fun seeing how fucked up the mutant strawberries get. I’m probably getting high off fertiliser.
Every time I get stomach pains I think it’s cancer. It’s usually just the shitty strawberries.
You can’t win in life, you’re always gonna go down so you might as well try to enjoy yourself and feel some ease. You have to cut the shit out of your life that’s destroying you.