just enough pathos

Was calmly walking down the stairs (scared of the lift, alone) when suddenly the sky peeked out from the window. For some reason, Joyce is inside my head today and consequently epiphany epiphany hanging from the rear of a car. People are starting to freak me out, they are disintegrating into tiny lumps and i can only observe, for once putting away my Miss fixit image. (me and U had a funny conversation regarding fixit during lunchtime today, but we talk in hoardings). Chasing deadlines with a dead pan expression on my face, often breaking into laughter or glum, bratty fury. Then, of course, walking down seedy streets stoned beyond belief, pausing mid-sentence and hysterics with a big plate of horrible crispy fried chicken. Bonds in every form, quite precious.

edit: haha, was stealthily reading a funny book about Advertising and every word in it about the Copywriter is uncannily true which includes finding Grass in the drawer and MAD magazines and writing a Brochure for ages and going blind while Proof-checking. lifeissadarkabyss anyone?