Or as Prince Humperdinck put it, 'I always think everything could be a trap, that is why I'm still alive.'

I put off writing for days and weeks and now I'm finally here, having just fought with my dad about what is a suitable time for me to make my grand arrival back home. I'm going home tomorrow :) I can't wait to forget what this strange isolated time was like (which will happen within a day of being back) and in typical about-to-go-home fashion am reveling in the last bits of my solitude. Much like my cats who mostly pretend to be dainty and clean, and then roll around on their backs in sunny patches of dust or sand like there's no tomorrow.

I'm also really thoroughly enjoying the dregs of tobacco left with me. Nicotine, to me, appears to be friend, philosopher, mentor, lover and guide, a la nature to Wordsworth. I suspect when the trappings of youth disappear, when my skin isn't quite as soft, my tits not as fantastic, my body no longer 'curvy' but plain old fat and gross the one thing that will remain steadfastly by my side is nicotine and my secretly flourishing tumours. And I will love them and coo at them. (see how long I've been alone? I say things like that now. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom.)

How's everyone been? Not too great I assume, for the internet deteriorates everyday. I could break up with it you know, delete my facebook and twitter account and delete all entries off my blog and leave it with a very lame and cryptic solitary 'so long and thanks for all the fish' type post to hint at past greatness, but my usage is changing with age. It's all trade journals, magazines & newspapers, catalogues, lolcats and the style rookie and the sartorialist now. I guess the time has come when I stop snickering to myself at the bleating of online artistes and poets, who sound all ~deep~ and ~inspirational~ and actually ignore them and stop noticing every new strand of white hair.

What else? I've been fairly morbid of late and didn't want to ramble on here, pointlessly AND humourlessly. And I can't pull off ~deep~ or ~inspirational~ :| It all eventually becomes a question of time, internet. Given enough time, we can really do anything. Learn how to be trusting, nice human beings also. Which is the exact luxury we can't afford. I tried watching stupid Ishqiya today and couldn't make it past 15 minutes. And I promised myself I will not watch A Single Man again this week.

In summary, a photo more illustrative of my mood than the drivel above: