You know something lovely happened to me the other day:
I walked past a woman on London bridge, and she was wearing the same perfume that my girlfriend when I was 16 wore. It was like being slapped about the face and neck with a photograph album. I spent a good hour nostalgically mentally rambling.
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Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob,
Wed 2 Jun 2010, 11:43,
archived)
It can't be bad if it feels so good can it?
I especially like the mixture of shame and bewilderment (I really should stop doing it on street corners)
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Hitler's Barber Soylent Green is high in saturated fat,
Wed 2 Jun 2010, 11:52,
archived)