in and out of progress

Love has its own time. Hate has its own time. Let’s hope that one can outdo the other.

Since 1992 every ghanaian president had the name John.

Or could it be possible to revive it?

I’ve seen all the music.  Now it’s time to move on. Follow the music.

Update: Two down, one to go. Update II: The twat is not a twat really. He just doesn’t want what I want. Which is a shame. He’s a nice man.

I touch my neck. It is blue and green and red from his bites. I feel the bruises. They are a little bit swollen. I push my fingers gently against them. It hurts a bit. A good pain. A turn on. It feels as if he would still be on top of me, biting my neck fearlessly. Telling me how I was a dirty bitch. Asking me if I want his cock inside my pussy. Making me ask for it. Promising to sort me out with a hard fuck. I am in the middle of IKEA and I am horny as fuck. I think I should see him again soon.

When you realize that you treated your weekend’s hookup like you’re a proper macho wanker...

My nippels - sore from a lover’s teeth. My neck - blue from a lover’s teeth. My head - messed up from a lover’s teeth.

Can culture replace religion?

It is almost phsically painfull for me to write non journalistic stories. Why is that so I wonder? I can write. I always could write. I will always be able to write. But why is it so hard then to come up with the right words? I have the storyline. I know roughly what to say with the story. So why is it not flowing? I don’t even want or need poncey words. Quite the opposite: I want to write as simple as possible. So why is it not flowing? Do I put myself under too much pressure? Maybe. Is that helpful? Most certainly not. Why do I continue doing it? Not sure. How can I change my ways? Analyse the pressure thing!  That’s hard! Yes! So you better get going!

 I don’t think we’ll replace them until we get in-eye contact lenses that do the same thing; so we can stare at people while we’re ignoring them. We should try and make people more interesting than phones.