they want me dead. there's no other explaination for it. who 'they' are is yet to be confirmed, but i have my suspicions. alright, i know names, i know dates and i even know where they live. (al pacino couldn't do it better) they want me dead, but i won't go down without a big fight.
there is a poster of pete wentz to my left. above the window avril lavinge and patrick wolf are pouting. to my right is morrissey and mick jagger. the killers are in the bathroom (i can now say that brandon flowers has seen me naked. um.) its not a bad hostel room, its just covered in posters. its fine, some i like, some i don't. big whoop. or so i think. when i go to put my head down, i turn to face the wall. and come face to face with Panic At The Disco. a loud curse fills the room, waking the woman from Venezuela. i clutch my copy of Trainspotting protectively. I really hate that band, and they seem to really hate me. But stalking me across England? Ridiculous.
Other than that, Manchester is alright. Bit hot. The Lowry is awesome, doing my best not to spend any money!!! Have run out of books, which may cause crisis. Visiting old school friend of my grandmothers. Need to do some laundry. Need to draw all over Panic at the Disco's faces tonight.
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2 comments:
Apparently the Grannie friend thought you were lovely. have you found a new you? no airedale's in Manchester? love
the confirmation code i have to type in to leave this comment is "ufaqgnld"
just so you know.
MORE BOOKS?
get on the augusten burroughs train with me!
ily
and i need photographic proof of your PATD related rebellion!
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