Poo Bag wanted to fly with its new friend, Colourful Balloon, while good old friend the Gas Canister looked at them with envy. But it didn’t manage to. Too heavy. Oh well, shit happens.
The wind has been ferocious today. I love the wind, but since I live on water, I don’t very much anymore because it rocks my boat and that makes me anxious that it may sink as a result. It also keeps me awake at night fiddling with that horrible blue tarpaulin sheet that is supposed to shelter the bloody engine room from rain, but doesn’t really.
Had quite high hopes about this post, thinking it would be about how sometimes when we try to fly high we instead end up stepping on a shit. I thought it may be about pretty things against pretty backgrounds turning out to be dark bags of shit. But I’m so tired because I didn’t really sleep because of the wind that it’s going to end here. Which I think actually is exactly the concept of the whole thing. Like, I can’t really fly. Maybe.
Go to sleep for fuck’s sake.
3 mesi di merda / 3 shit months 