"Blogging isn't journalism, it's graffiti with punctuation."

>jackie big tits is hiding in the corner, respect is the word she shouts as i implore her; you can’t push me around, round round

>my weekend in Cambridge:


rented a bike with a basket, soared through the city and its outskirts for 5 hours, following along the series of canals, daffodil pastures, green fields, highways and motorways, quiet suburban streets, and the many colleges that Cambridge is famous for.

i had my headphones on for the entire ride . . . singing loudly to my theme songs (Hawksley Workman’s Your Beauty Must Be Rubbing Off” & “Safe and Sound“), not at all perturbed by the pedestrians shocked by my vocals. cuz i was gone in a flash.


this park is in the city’s heart, and with temperatures at 25 degrees, everyone was out in the grass, toes dug in the green, frisbees flying along the blue



these boats are called ‘punts,’ resembling the gondolas in venice, and you can rent one and try it yourself.


hanging on the edge of the canal wall . . . so far apart, but destined to see one another and smile.


the beauty


a couple smooch at a table across from me at a cafe.


bike by my side, smiling in the sun, deep current just below.


ancient sun dials adorn the stone façades.


punts in queue.


cambridge university in all its glory.


of course, i hadda pay a visit to the theatre!


in the courtyard of the round church, which dates back to the 12th century, a couple folded and twisted into each other.

I TASTE DELICIOUS, BITCH.

the day before i left for cambridge, i had an encounter at a cafe in soho. i don’t know how to describe it. it was . . . luminous.

and hell is a place in norway.

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