crossing the line

stop breaking down! in the morning after a big one and all the fun from last night is compressed in your head and stomach, trying to get out, making itself known, you always wonder why. why did i get so slaughtered, why did i drink to the point where all of a sudden pronouncing words properly is secondary in importance to getting another beer, and my perception of cool and uncool is so distorted it has completely flipped. and now writing here on this blog i've got the same embarassed feeling i get when i wake up after a raucous night out, because its one of those things that is just faintly embarassing. whether there's something in particular you did wrong or not, its just that faint knowledge that overall, in general, throughout the night you didnt really act like you. and on a blog, whether you sound like a turd or an absolute genius, you really cant escape that horrible awkward feeling that what you're writing isnt really quite like you. ironically, this probably is.

in a message to my other half on another screen a few hundred metres away, is this getting too serious? im thinking about posting this but i really dont know. and how was your night?

as a moral vigilante, life-saving theif, fighting the exploitation of the agri-class. stepping infront of the torrent, stopping only drops of the endless stream, but staying there none the less. consider an alternative method to explicit protest, and stuff some wine in your bag instead. tastes better, and much more effective.