Favorite music is playing, in some moments of life, a person needs to drink, but he does not know. I need to drink at all times. And I know that. I was unbearable to look at everyone around me is unbearable to listen to their voices, and especially the words of a thin squeak desperate happiness, the creaking of the glass inconsistent speed piletom nails, ugly, but at the same time familiar. You hate him, but he is always with you.
The only company that does not push to the surface of my need to drink, it's me and leaves. I leaf. I mudflats. Yailist. Damn, annoying. Even their divorce on paper, can cause nausea. Although, perhaps, his in particular. Too many people today are unhappy. Too many people have to say. I choose to remain silent. Shut up and kill themselves with something more worthwhile than a nagging neighbor on the desk, on the ward, couch, bed, life, death, or any other place of all this fucking garbage.
The line often goes beyond what I want to say I'm probably a lot to say, just the bottom line is that nobody needs it, you know, I bet if I wrote a post about shit, missed it as well as post about friendship, love, caring and family.
Shit and friendship, and family shit, shit, friendship, family, shit, and would have missed all this together, very symbolic.
Nobody wants to read all those "true life" that so many bahvalyatsya, but if I say Beigbeder has written a book and call it crap. I think it would be a five-digit circulation. A sales… and even more.
Actually what I mean. The book is about the shit already. Irvine Welsh, race car post-modern culture dermovskoy, the book is crap. Read, read, slept, went pissed away, and realized the truth that man writes is good.
Pour yourself a cup, pour into a glass, pour.
I do not know what would you do if you have something to write about myself, I think you would have lied. Everyone wants to be crap in a tie from Ferre, here I am.