I which I lose myself.
still callow and dissolute sadly no longer a youth
In which I throw myself upon my sword.
In which a little bit of perfection goes a long way.
In which I require you to provide the content.
In which je ne regrette rien. Sort of.
In which I’m
Ah, memory. ‘Tis a fickle mistress. Or somesuch literary bumwaffle. The fact is that my memory is terrible. I can’t remember tons of stuff that...
Yay for photo blogs! Ok, so I’m a coffee drinker in a morning. Usually only one mug, unless I’m feeling decadent or hung over. And...