(double black)

My brain is the rebel straying along the line in the sand again. waiting for the right fight to come along and make up his mind where his allegiance ought to fucking lie.

Two cups of coffee on one cigarette and no headache worth mentioning. jitters all the same but i'm rather fond of them. the sun is shining on another unseasonable day in march that might as well herald the end of winter as we know it here on the east coast and i'm smiling with victoria.

Not sure why.

Perhaps its just nice to wake up and find i don't want to fucking die for just an hour.

Maybe there's something to this whole not being hungover.