Buying paper, being happy
I am having an uber great morning! Woohoo! I feel like I should write one of those shitty self-help books for someone who’s at home depressed, and I definitely have the recipe for instant euphoria only it’s too simple to sell a book to an idiot on. I started off hungover with four hours sleep but then I came home and put on some clean clothes and brushed my teeth(delicious), skyped my groovy friend Zain back in ye olde convict land, and then I had to go buy papers, cue smokes and ipod in pocket of the jacket, sun, in this usually dreary place. Shuffle came on with Harold Melvin, followed by Feist, Cat Power and the Hives. So good, right?! So, yeah, the search for happiness ends in the configuration of your ipod. I danced down the street and stood outside the cornershop finishing my smoke, and what with the pub next door gathering old ogling alcoholics outside, and my loser outfit which consisted of like leggings, I started feeling a bit like an innocent ten year old being accosted by dangerous stares. Not that it’s the first time, old irish men, like very old, the type that you wonder how they can even sustain any sort of lust, they’ve taken a shine to me. Yesterday walking down the street this octogenarian was ambling along there, and as I got closer he gave a real penetrating state, not like into the hollows of my soul, more like xray vision, and then he stopped, and well, I stopped, and he said to me, as he brought his face closer to mine(real romantic like),going in for the kill, ‘you’re a very beautiful girl’. Like, pick-up line of the century, right? I thought I was back in Brasil. lolz.
Gangsta cousin
But yeah, so, Ireland is really nice, my granny grew a few more wrinkles and now she offers me smokes as well as tea and cake, which is schweet.
Missing you all in Nepal, Australia, Russia, Finland, America, you globetrotters you lot. Much love,
tchau & beijos
Chloe
