Bed 7am. Up 11am. Feel like shit, bed again. Up 2pm. Surely there’s a chorus there. All night writing. Not good for conducive social behaviour. Convince myself it’s really not that late. One day bleeding into the other. It’s OK to not know what day it is. Day numbers a relatively modern construct…
Youtoob surf amidst chaos. Drunken tears of joy…

Checkya later.
FO.