Earphones in to drown out the pub,
which is currently full of weird old
men ogling the women's long jump
event on sports TV. The camera
at the end of the sandpit, you
see, is set at arse level. A gurgling
beery cheer is going up every time
a pair of athletic bumcheeks rub
up against the lens.
Home alone for the next few days.
I'll sling some music up when I get
home, and probably do the Open
Mic thing on LiveJournal tonight.
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