Dear Diary,
Alas, the day takes an interesting tact already. After the usual blitzed and passion-filled evening, rising morning glorious intimacy, tired and hungry, two love-birds strolled lesiurely into town on a sunny Tuesco morn'.
The inevitable organic food shop, whilst eating breakfast brechette I dids't spy mine nemesis, and also a woman we both knew, the sounding of a bell inspired me to write a play, a tragedy, contemporary, yet archaic.
We went to the pub, I ordered a half a cyder eighth degree, naturally, and she, had a light ale, golden. As we sat outside, a secret admirer began to flirt with me, Janie became jealous, we left.
Then, after a quiet stroll about the park in the sun, we met an artful dodger: one of our close friends, he bought us a drink each (as we had both spent all by now) the two hurried to catch the bus to their home-town, where they live along the coast a way. Alas, I tried to leave with my ale, the landlady said not to, I replied I'd be straight back. After seeing Janie off, the barman had tipped or guzzled away my drink after me having n'owt but a lone sip. I considered briefly what to do, and finally, I decided to just let it go. Zen-like. Boycott the place in future.
So. I am home. Alone. Yet, with my studies. An assignment to do, a computer to repair in order to do the essay (or I could just text it out on my phone, as per usual). Eyes down, sober up, come down to reality Maxy, we must work now.
Mori.
Maxx.
