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Having a day in bed, feeling quite poorly. Don't feel myself, and even though it's only been a day, I miss the boys. Tobi called earlier, apparently after he figured out voice dialling on someone's phone but he had to tell me all about how Nicky was rough with his toys. I felt bad for wanting to laugh because it was so dire to him, but listening to little kids winging is a bit amusing.

I hope to be back tomorrow, I miss tiny cuddles. Perhaps they would make me feel all better again.

Oh Bloody Sick

Had a dream last night that I could care to forget. Lord, I don't even know what I ate before bed, but I have to lay off it.

In it, I was walking down a street in London when some unknown person or persons shot me in the head. I fell over and slowly got up again, but was horrified when I realized my brains were literally leaking out. I cupped my hands and ran to Joe and Gui's, which was in the back of a chip shop, and Joe gave me a bowl to catch my brains in, and Gui told me to leave before Tobi saw me. I began to stumble home, holding the bowl and leaning my head forward, and went to my old flat I shared with my parents, where Keys, Cez and I were living. The odd thing is, at this point, I couldn't see well, and everyone was talking without their normal accents.

Upon seeing me, Cez began to freak out, naming the parts of my brain in the bowl and what their functions were. I kept trying to tell him that I didn't really care, but I couldn't speak as that part had fallen out as well. The last thing I remember was Keys telling me not to let Sam near the bowl as he'd probably try to eat my brain, and then I fell over. Before I could hit the ground in dreamland, I woke up in real land.

That was sick, I never want to eat soup again.


Best Sex Ed Video Ever

I'm sorry Cez, but if I can't get this out of my head, I might have to abstain forever.


No More Meth In Me Afternoon Tea....

Just woke up from an afternoon nap on the couch, and my head is right fucked. I'd go have a cigarette if I had one, I swear, I'm just...very mixed up.

I had a dream that I woke up in a dark room on a metal table, and I was naked. I could see a light coming from under a door, so I got up and walked towards it and out into the hall. I found a labcoat and slipped it on, walking down a quiet corridor as I called out for anyone to hear me. I kept passing rooms full of what looked like heavy, sterile filing cabinets with numbers on them, but there was no one there. There wasn't even an echo, thinking back on it, it was dead silent.

At the end of the hall, I could see a large white room, like a lab, and I could hear a whirring noise coming from inside. I went in, and the room was just gigantic, and everything was white and smelled of bleach. There were more tables, but these ones weren't flat metal ones, they almost looked like lounges that lay flat, but with tubes coming out of them. Some of the tables had coverings over them, but most were empty.

As I walked through the room towards the back, I saw a man with his back turned to me working over a desk. When I cleared my throat, the man turned, and it was Sam, but not as I remember him. This was an older man, in his fifties or sixties, but it was Sam.

I asked him where we were, he told me he didn't know how I got out of the recycler, but I didn't know what he was talking about. He pointed at my chest, and I looked down to see a large cut, and all my organs missing. I started to freak out, but he said I was defective and only good for parts, I was one of the first models, but he was getting much better at it now. The new models were much better.

I asked him why he was doing this, he said so he wouldn't lose me again.

I woke up after that.


Degrees of Desperation

Due to financial dealings as of late, I've been a bit more aggressive in trying to book jobs for modeling to try to raise a bit of cash. Of course, my arm not being of much use isn't exactly a winning point, and I've had more than a few "Thank you, but you're not what we're looking for"s. I didn't realize the left arm was such an important part of a fucking headshot, the things you learn!

Until today, when I got a "that's not a problem" which made me feel like jumping for joy, until it was followed by a "come to the shoot at least two hours early, I like to make a physical connection with my models, if you know what I mean". I told him I wasn't a whore, and he told me he wasn't about to deal with an uptight cripple, much less pay one.



Remember, Remember...

Happy Guy Fawkes Day, everyone.


Reporting From A Net Cafe

Cez and I found a nice internet cafe near our hotel, so whilst we enjoy our coffees, I decided to pop on here and update.

As all of you know by now, Cez and I have eloped. I'm Mr. Jude Laurent now. As happy as I was to be getting married, it was a really hard day for me as I missed my family terribly. I know we'd planned the wedding, and I'm sorry we didn't go through with it, but I think if the courthouse was hard, that would have been near impossible.

And you also all know the other nastiness going down, so I won't elaborate on that, I don't really enjoy discussing it. Thanks to it, however, I am out of medication which has resulted in very sharp stabbing pains in my left shoulder. I suppose the weight of carrying a dead arm isn't good on it. Cez is getting quite good at backrubs, thankfully, so that's helped out a lot. I love him so dearly.

Other than that, I'm having a lot of fun on our honeymoon, we've been to tons of places and seen lots of very cool things. I miss everyone very much, though.

Fuck Trousers!

I've fucking had it today, I'm at my wits end, and it's because of my fucking trousers. I'm sure Keys is sick of me walking back and forth from my room in my underwear, which I can manage just fine, so I threw on that kilt I bought with Garrett ages ago.

Fucking bless, I don't have to be half naked any more. I'm not giving up on trousers entirely, but for around the house and that I'm picking up a couple of these or these for the time being. They'll keep me from feeling indecent anyway.

And to be quite honest, I'm not arsed if people think I'm wearing a skirt, or if my physical therapist thinks I'm being lazy. I'd just like to have one thing be easier in my day to day life right now.


Tell me about hyperboles and that all you want, but this song just makes me think of Cez. I think it's cute.

And you are pretty, love, don't kill me.


My New Icon is Already Obsolete

Got my haircut. The mohawk is GONE. All that's left is about 2cm of hair all over and my sideburns. I feel absolutely naked.

I won't lie, I acted like a little girl the entire time and made the hairdresser laugh with my pouting. I couldn't help it, I really didn't want it gone, I loved it to pieces, and my Dad did too. Mum would have been happy to see me with normal hair again, I think. Maybe it looks more professional, but the piercings and tattoos break that facade, so I suppose not.

I'm entirely too broken up about this. I'm such a prat.

No change in my arm, by the way.