I haven’t been posting lately.
Though you noticed that.
And you cried and cried yourself to sleep.
And you drank.
And we judged.
And we pretended that we didn’t.
And we looked at your bum.
Fine, I looked at your bum.
You were drunk, I didn’t think you’d notice.
Here’s the thing…
I’ve been writing.
But, just not blogging.
Fat lot of good that does you, eh?
Though in theory you’ll have the opportunity to read it at some point.
Unless, of course, I have one of my trademark tempestuous outbursts and delete it all before singing Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time” naked while flogging myself with a badminton racket.
But, that isn’t super likely to happen. It’s, like, 50/50 at worst.
Also, I found another post-it on my bedside table the other morning. I barely remember writing it. It said:
“So, she’s like the wind in the sails of your erection.”
I really should not have a pen anywhere near my bed.