the men were none other than human league.

My Godfather, Stanley died in his sleep on the morning of Wednesday September 2nd.

It's tough to put into words about how I feel about losing him. He had a long and wonderful life with Brenda, who died on 18th December 2006, so I think he'd just had enough of being by himself.

He was loved, and I was truely blessed to have had him in my life for the twenty-four years I did.


say hello to brenda for me stan, i miss you both too much.

i constantly have a need to drink coffee.

from france to switzerland, then home // to bourenemouth, to reading then home again.

I've come home recently and felt detatched from life and people around here, I have no clue what is going on anymore, with anything.
I'm just constantly tired, or getting fucked up on something. I feel like I'm fighting for conversation with friends and family, yet yearning for connections everywhere.
Communication is a must, and I have nothing to talk about.

I tried emailing people yesterday who I met in and around Switzerland, and it just went wrong.
Some got returned unsent, and it was the people I wanted to hear from who's emails didn't send.

I'm tired, and don't want to be here.
Next week I start photography on the 9th or the 14th, I honestly can't remember. My necks being tattoo'd on the 8th and Stan is getting worse. My parents were married ten years ago this week, and I have nothing to give them.
I still haven't developed any pictures from my summer either.

Fuck, I need to get back on the horse.

listen to NO WARNING.
read Jorge Luis Borges' Labyrinths.
wear movie hats.
drink coffee.