Somewhat up in the air, filled with expectations that never come to fruition. I am empty, alone in the cold. I feel I can never be whole. I am lost in an ocean of predictability. One turn leads here, another leads there. I have shut one door and am just waiting for another to open. Warren got a flat. I get pretentious when I eat salmon. Bumped into Griff on the way home, he just moved to London. Failed to go home and instead rolled around the floor in Barcode for a time, admiring the £1 a drinkness of it all. Trust Fund Baby James sent me messages on gaydar at 1am. Good GOD is he hot! Was two hours late for work as I accidentally drank far too much. Whoops! Although Lloyd had a little to do with the lateness. Grr Warren apparently stayed up until 6am chatting with Tom. Hur. If they weren’t both such girly bottoms they’d make a fantastic couple Tom is going to be working just down the road in Greenwich. So might get to see him a bit more... Have a date some time this week (will be texted) with a 31yr old. Just to confuse people, see... Not now seeing David tonight as he appears to be hiding from me. Shall write to Dan instead. Went to the Swan but don’t remember it. Hah! Apparently fell off a barstool. So now I’m not going to drink any longer. Honest. Have twiglets Contacted Chris. But promised him I’d not mention him any more in the blog, because apparently he has “no respect” for anyone who reads it. Therefore all of you lot are obviously wrong and he’s evidently right. Anyways. I’m not mentioning him, and certainly not mentioning the fact I gave him an olive branch and he seemingly threw it back in my face. Sigh. I shall lick my wounds, call men a bunch of bastards and sulk for a bit longer but in the end I’ll be ok. And in the end, João is right. Still doesn’t make me happy. Only he can make me happy So, I’m dedicating this song to the men of the world. It’s by the Beautiful South and rather special... I love you from the bottom, of my pencil case I love you in the songs, I write and sing Love you because, you put me in my rightful place And I love the prs cheques, that you bring Cheap, never cheap I’ll sing you songs till you’re asleep When you’ve gone upstairs I’ll creep And write it all down Oh shirley, oh deborah, oh julie, oh jane I wrote so many songs about you I forget your name (I forget your name) Jennifer, alison, phillipa, sue, deborah, annabel, too Jennifer, alison, phillipa, sue, deborah, annabel, too I forget your name I love your from the bottom of my pencil case I love the way you never ask me why I love to write about each wrinkle on your face And I love you till my fountain pen runs dry Deep so deep, the number one I hope to reap Depends upon the tears you weep, so cry, lovey cry, cry, cry, cry Oh cathy, oh alison, oh phillipa, oh sue You made me so much money, I wrote this song for you Jennifer, alison, phillipa, sue, deborah, annabel, too I wrote this song for you So let me talk about mary, a sad story Turned her grief into glory Late at night, by the typewriter light, She ripped his ribbon to shreds After all is said and done, I am still me. I may need to recover, I may need to rearrange, but I will be fine. I have sorted many things out in my head over the last few weeks and I am in a place I can be, if not happy, at least sane. I have decided to stay single for a while. Possibly a long while (sorry Lloyd!) and basically chill out. I have the love of a few good people. I have people around me I care about and who care about me. I just can’t be doing with any more fucked up chasers in my life at the moment. I think I have plenty as it is