Mentalechoes

Lifes on the up and up; I've quit smoking, made it passed my probation period at the new job and been given a permanent contract, and turned over a new leaf when it comes to doing gear as part of the usual weekend blowout. I'm feeling pretty good, even though I'm not really looking it. One of the problems giving up smoking is that craving to snack constantly. As much as what you used to smoke, and then a bit more. So my once slim stomach has been reshaping itself to resemble a spare tyre from an SUV, but that's okay, it's winter, I spend my days wearing two layers of shirts under a long sleeved jumper. Everybody looks slim this way.

So with everything so good, why is there still this feeling of wanting to pack up and move to some small corner of the world and give all this excitement away? I've spent my whole life running away from a life ordinary and dull as fuck, so what's with the big urge now to head to the nearest deserted beach and spend the rest of my life doing fuck all? I don't know really. I don't have any answers for that. I'm just wondering if it will pass.

Well either way, I still have to get up tomorrow morning and go about my day, so there's no point in daydreaming too much about founding my own hippie community on a Thai beach. Though I reckon that's definitely something worth doing at some point. Only, I think I'd make sure there were no guns or crazed meglomaniac English chicks around to hijack my doped out little group of lost travellers. If it's one thing I learned from that movie, it's that rampaging chicks and guns will fuck up a good thing faster than bad acid will turn your couch into a blue monster that will try to devour you whole.

Trust me!

Padwanna!