I spend a lot of time inside my head. Not on my day job, mind you. But every free minute, especially at the weekend, that's where you'll find me. Because I make things up. I lie. I am a professional liar. I am paid to lie. To make up stories. To pretend. To shoot the shit. And on Saturday evenings, very late, with a real work week in front of me, I get fidgety. Anxious. Because my secret lives, my fictional voices, the phony -- but all too real -- characters that crawled their way outa me are soon to be shut away for another few days. And then, all I got is me.
That's why blogging is important. On the internets, I have a persona -- hell, I have at least three. And through the week, via a post or two, they help to keep me sane. Because I'm not. Really. Sane. How the fuck could I be?
It's probably the same for everyone. Right?
Na. Didn't think so.
Another beer.
And then, to bed.
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2 comments:
celebrated robby burns day....nah with mead nor haggis ...but with some o that and some o that and some o that (which translates beer and wine and ale)
Uno: We're all Scots on the 26th. Like you, I steered clear o'the haggis but managed to hoist a pint or two.
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