I am the kind of lonely
That loops back into itself,
And makes me withdraw.
I pass by the cute boys
Speaking their language
That trills like a mandolin
And wonder whether,
If I spoke and understood,
Things would be different.
People keep trying to label me as 'nomadic' rather than homeless and it's getting on my wick. I have no income. I have no place to go back to. I have no realistic employment prospects. This isn't a lifestyle choice I can drop whenever I want.
What am I bringing to the table, you might ask. And to that I can only say: fantasism.
It's lucky for ABBA that they weren't called Carlos, Ulrike, Niccolo and Timotea.
Just had a realisation: Andrew Tate is a drag king. He doesn't know it, but he is.
Just been looking at the stats for cis-on-cis violence. Extremely troubling stuff.
I think I've said it before but as another domino (Kickstarter) falls to the prurient whims of Visa and MasterCard, it really feels like we need a new and uncensorable payment network, and it feels like this is what crypto was made for.
All I really want is a husband who's financially comfortable and has lots of free time but is still radical anti-capitalist, will accept me and my many quirks/foibles and let me work on my weird shit instead of getting a real job, and is also hot, charming, funny, kinky etc. Is that so much to ask?
Here's the serious bit for anyone who'd rather skip the 4000 words of jokes
