Friday 19 July 2002|

No more fucking going out. In is the new out. That's the look I'm championing. I'm championing it on the sofa. The cushions are sliding everywhere and the duvet is bunched up around my knees, I've lost my cigarettes somewhere and I'm trying to balance the Chinese takeaway on my knees, and hoping to fuck I don't spill the wine again like I did last night. Lisa and I are screaming various phrases throughout the night. 'Finish Him!' 'Pause it! Pause it!' 'Back back run high kick!' That's for the retro Playastation part of the evening; then there's 'You may call this lack of confidence / but to carry on living don't make no sense / I CAN'T I CAN'T I CAN'T STAND LOSING I CAN'T I CAN'T I CAN'T STAND LOSING... YOU!!!!', punching the air in time, yelling that this is 'our song'; then there's 'Flea! Flea! Flea! Flea!' because we see the Red Hot Chilli Peppers on TOTP 2 after the Police and we whisper to each other 'that dude is hott' and I misidentify the hot dude, Anthony, as Flea... then there's Big Brother of course, where we retrive and enjoy Alex's drunk witterings 'Alcohol Is Not A Friend Of Mine'; which eventually turns into 'MOOORE GAAAAAAMES!!!' in Johnny's Geordie accent; sobbing with joy over the beautiful transformation on Would Like To Meet and for once no words needed, just lips pressed to fingers and fingers pressed to screen. Oh it was the definition of funstuffz: no need to apply makeup or tweak the stupid hair; just strutting around in a Moby Honey t-shirt and red zebra-stripe knickers and shoving the sofa up in front of the telly and grabbng the Mortal Kombat manual and learning the magics (though not the death moves: apparently these strange things are available on the internet and I for one cannot wait to move into my sister's now and sleep again on that mean couch and play the fucking playstation till I'm fucking gooooood); and not even being bothered to go on the stupid internet and check my stupid mail and visit the message board I'm attempting to disengage from: just Sofaland, which is up there with World Of K for Excellent And Fun Places I Would Like To Go More Often. Yess. Ah there was other stuffz: writing about music, music yet again (I hunger for film art literature anything that doesn't entail dressing up and lipstick and showing off) with a mean fuzzy mind but whatever, I did it: I slept, I drank a million mugz of coffee, my front popped out of my sundress and it didn't matter because it was Lisa! my sister! and she didn't see besides; fuck it: solace, silence, peace, lust, fruit, pasta, idiot's lantern, magic, murder, Tiannamen Square, killing, violence, fear, tears, transformation, joy, beauty, hope for the future... but now imma embrace past stuffz cuz it's 1985 on ITV1 and it's Paul King whom I used to love and it's one fifteen AM and no one's looking and let's go retro! It's the mental equivalent of sofaland, and though I'm back at Elly's now, I never ever ever wanna leave sofaland again: so I never will.

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