Sleep typing.

Here I sit, early morning January 1st 2014. Cold. Really cold. So cold Abbey keeps zooming out into the garden, taking a breath, shaking her head in disbelief, and then running back in. 

Coffee, a banana and the belief that it must be a short winter right? Its not normally this cold until the new year….Bugger.

11 years in America, what have I learned? If the best things in life are free, they don't live here. That you are fiscally responsible for your  sickness, as its your fault. God wants you to pay. Right? The drugs work-ish but may kill you.  Your fault, you didn't read the warnings carefully enough.

 The food can be great, or made of sawdust and broken dreams. Did you read the instructions? Type if you like, make it fun, you don't want to bore the spies. Live by whatever made up events are coming up, a welcome distraction from whatever disaster is rolling in.

 I really like it here. I like my bullshit served up in a loving consistent fashion, so I know what I'm dealing with. America is a lot of fun, the people are great, the politics shit, but not full of chinless wankers whose daddy owns land his daddy and his daddy before him stole from the peasants. Hang on,  well not the posh tosspots I can live without. 

However difficult America can be, its a laugh living here. Lots of opportunity to do what I want, when the drugs work and I can toddle out and about. 

2014 reset, take another crack at stuff. One thing, stop applauding mediocrity wildly every time I accidentally turn on a shitty talk show. You're giving me a headache.