I’m notoriously the Samantha Jones of my friends, but recently I have begun to feel nonsexual.
My body feels inside out and made of wet, brittle plywood. The kind of freeway flotsam you see ditched on the M2. Like the subject of a Roger Ballen photograph..
Accidental eye contact with Sainsbury’s grocery clerks as I buy microwave meals is the closest I have to game right now.
The naked mole-rat is God’s greatest mistake. Well, that and letting Man with a Plan be renewed for season 2.
Lately, I've felt cogged with the odour of copy-ink, Wite-Out, the smell of bond paper, and the endless stress of pointless jobs done to little applause. I thought renting a video on Amazon Prime and popping Nitol was enough. Spoiler alert: it isn’t.
copyright © josh milton 2017