i have nothing of substance to say about the war in Ukraine

other than "fuck Putin".

chee puts it best:

it fucken WIMDY

Storm Eunice hit two days ago and it was actually kind of scary to be told by the Meteorological Office "hazard to life from flying debris". we shut the cat in, charged our battery packs, made sure we had enough candles and butane and didn't go outside.

around the corner a row of houses' garden walls fell down and are blocking the pavement. the vent on the boiler flue is still going ham rattling as i type.

new case who dis

(sorry, this bit's pretty nerdy, skip on if you don't care)

a year or so ago, when i still had a therapist, we worked out that i often lose habits because i felt guilty about not having done them, and that guilt transferred to the thought of starting back up again, and she gave me permission to not do that

i have a studio space

on trafalgar road, in greenwich, there's an iceland. above the iceland is this 70's pebbledash concrete box. i don't know what it used to be, it's a very odd building inside. now it is twenty-two small spaces, full of artists, makeup artists, florists, and me.