The carefree, godless, hopeless, lovelorn drifter muses once again 

Currently I’m decaying in the lovely state of Florida on a relaxing break from the dreary remnants of shitty north western Britain. The Floridian sun fruitlessly trying to scorch my pale skin and my hair growing long and unkempt. I’m filling the days alone listening to Leonard Cohen, Nick Drake and Father John Misty on repeat, writing mostly and some reading also. I’m habitually visiting the shops like Ross and Books a million as well. Not found a good music shop just yet. Now bar the fact Florida is under rule of the heinous Trump, it’s a nice place. From the palm trees and cracked paving, I’m enjoying it. Enjoying it as; the horny, carefree, godless, lovelorn, hopeless drifter I am. 

I recently picked up a pair of James Dean style sunglasses at Ross I adore for just $4.

In amongst it all I’m trying to get some soul searching done. However my big project I’ve undertaken has trumped most of that. Poolside writing on my blackberry is a tad more funner than soul searching. However whilst reading and listening to a lot of Leonard Cohen I’ve been thinking a lot about spirituality, the soul and all that jazz. Maybe if I’d of been looking at all that stuff punching wardrobes it could of gone differently with her. Then again no.

Now then I’m on my second Hawaiian shirt of the week, Pink flamingo styling. I’ve got Father John Misty’s Fear fun on, and this beautiful French girl is staring at me from across the table of this little cafe on some nondescript Main Street. So aurevioir and let’s see if I can remeber any school instilled French. Can’t go too bad, just have to use my hands if my French is fucked.

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