…booze and everyone. Fuck Shellac.
…fuck all the wires on a PC.
…fuck Explorer. Fuck multiple windows. Fuck scrobbling or the lack thereof.
Fuck iTunes and fuck the old music I love and haven’t heard in ages.
Fuck festering. Fuck turning into a little ball of imagined itches and spots. Fuck cracked thumbs and fuck pottering like a pre-retirement pensioner.
Fuck emotion and intelligence and awareness. The combination is disatrous and cruelly impels a duty of care for pre-retirement pensioners.
Fuck the bin men. Fuck Halloween, eyeballs and cloaks, in fact, fuck a Jack O’Lantern.
Fuck your patience and intolerance. Fuck the crossed windows and speechlessness. Fuck the untainted, escapist daydreams.
Definitely fucking fuck the cold and my broken central heating. Fuck the long nails I started growing in the cafe that act as icy conductors. Fuck the plastic ivories, the joy of headphone jacks and intros, fucking kettle-boil diversions.
Fuck you and your phone calls, stunted texts and Guards. Fuck your forced deafness to a cygnet’s song, cheeping from the rapids. Fuck your wilful blindness and impassioned paralysis. Fuck you.
