a.funnytimeofyear.com

(click to purchase)

In all honesty I’m not adverse to the obligatory Friday night alone. After all the mayhem of the last few nights, I am, quite frankly, just looking forward to spending some time alone. A few nights ago I (not a lesbian) ended up in Brighton’s only lesbian bar with a drag queen (clearly not a lesbian) and my housemate (who is neither gay, nor a lesbian). My days are spent indulging in childish acts of drunken debauchery with an array of once strangers, crawling into bed in the wee hours of the morning, before then skipping off to work in a zombie state. Tonight, I must. Rented some random videos; Visitor Q, La Femme Nikita and Dolores Clairborne. Ah, solidarity.

Every year that the summer season rolls around I become more self-conscious about my body. I have quite a few scars on my arms that really seem to pop out when the sunshine comes my way. Already a couple of times over the past few weeks people have asked me where I got them from. Understandably, I just want to avoid the topic of conversation and move on.

Currently steeped knee-high in Sally Mann books, books about suicide, photo magazines and essay notes. Trying to complete three essays in ten days is never a good idea. Still, the sun’s shining, heart’s beating — can’t be all that bad.

Edit: Afro update!