turning into a yummy-mummy

so they're sitting and watching france play portugal, seldom cheering, often ohh-ing, more often ow-ow-ow-ing, totally freaking me out. why must they all be so crazy about football? and more importantly, why can't i watch it?

well, i can't really settle to anything, can i? no letters, no portfolios, no reading. no motivation. agh, bring me back my cool-stud-ness. i was not made for a suburban life of cooking, bus passes and tv. give me back my river, my ferocious walk, my mouldy dome, my hooded grey coat, my studio, my youth, my hope, my pain.