Saturday, 29 March 2008
As if to defy the aura of finality cast by the previous post, at last I'm able to rouse myself and type something. All the flat is eerie, being shrouded by the lingering mist of stale cigarette smoke, the debris of last night's party still not tidied up, with all the revelers away to watch the Old Firm game. My own state of mind is best described as a kind of crumpled melancholy; an inclination to stare passively into the middle distance and observe a world that I'm still not quite prepared to fully engage with. Soon I'll gather up some bin liners and start to put this place into some sort of order, but for now the drips and glugs of the bathroom plumbing provide a suitably unearthly soundtrack to nothing in particular.