Typing this shit on a new Macbook after my last laptop gave me the finger and started spitting up technological blood. Finally fucking moving back to London in nine days with my Little F. When I get back, I need to:
* Go to The World's End in Camden and get hammered.
* Drink a black velvet (thankyou, Jefferson Hack).
* Get tattooed, maybe twice.
* Apply to work at the new Rick Owens flagship.
* Catch up with everyone I've missed. And I mean everyone this time, for better or for worse.
(Is it disgusting for me to suddenly be the American werewolf in London of horniness just over a week before I move in with my boyfriend? I finally get to wake up every day next to the last thing I think about when I close my eyes and I still can't stop eyeballing men and having porny dreams about Bachannalian orgies and love in an elevator and all that shit. It's making me feel like a terrible girlfriend. I wish I didn't like fucking dudes so much, because fuck dudes, man. Why do they linger in your mind for so long?)