This, too

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And I am now opposed to coconut milk in sachets

Hello, internet. How are you?

I've had insomnia for months. At first it was that I would lie in bed for a good five hours before there was any chance of drifting off, regardless of the time. For the last three weeks it was that I hadn't been able to sleep for more than two hours at a stretch. That was worse, to be honest, as I don't think it allows for proper deep sleep of the sort that keeps one's brain from bleeding, but it did yield plenty of remembered dreams.

In the last one I shared a flat with Joanna Newsom, which was great except that she kept her harp in the living room and for some damned reason I kept whacking my knee on it.

Since this drunken weekend I've actually been sleeping, but so far remembering no more about how it's working out with Joanna, so mixed feelings there.

Okay, thanks, Jim, for your random observation of the day:
"There's no way that Seth Macfarlane hasnt been to Tarleton at some point and thought, 'That guy could work in an animated comedy in some form' when seeing you... 'cause, well, you pretty much ARE the adult Stewie."
So, again with the mixed feelings. Mostly, though, I'm trying to figure out how this gets me closer to Mila Kunis.

In conclusion, Chiv's sleep patterns are erratic and apparently he's into American girls now. What?

Let's see if we can't improve on the update so far, eh.

I cracked a tooth and it hurts.

I'm supposed to be going to a fiftieth birthday party. The invites bear the insignia of 1 Commando Rhodesian Light Infantry, so here's hoping that alcohol and politics don't arise and combine to get me killed.

Oh, speaking of, part of the family has got on the wrong side of the local mafia, which apparently does actually exist. Cousin holding the front door against five masked men while her bloke gets the kid upstairs, taking said kid around to a neighbour's only to find bloke missing on her return, bloke turning up in hospital with machete blows to the skull, and all sorts of other fun. Oh, but not to worry, the police are all over it. Build descriptions, registration plates, partial confession, machetes and police batons complete with fingerprints, and a quite reasonable, "we don't have enough to hold them". It's amazing that I'm not in a greater hurry to pay any taxes beyond those slapped on alcohol, really, eh?

1:54 a.m. - 2009-04-29

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