So we read Byron in class today, namely ‘Manfred’ and ‘Prometheus’, and there were pros and cons:

pros: romanticism, moustache reminiscent of Gomez Addams, all round bad man/soldier, lothario

cons: club foot, douche bag towards John Keats (who we all know is the superior poet), fugly slut.

Yeah, I’m kind of embarrassed about quoting Mean Girls in relation to Byron; there were two ideals that should never have crossed paths, one should be flying in the sky while the other should be buried ten feet underground in Plato’s cave. P’rap’s Osama will still be there, he might enjoy pre-disaster-zone-Linsay-Lohan.

Spent last night organising my life. I use this term lightly as it mainly consisted off me throwing out stupidly old food/bills/other crap. I know this is a kind of January 1st kinda ting but, well, i got bored.

I have to start planning a 40 minute presentation for Poetry as well, finel detailing all the rambling beauty i’m going to write about. I want to get some old-timey paper from the mill at Cheddar Gorge because i think the rustic look will work will; or will at least score me some brownie points.

I need to pick up the guitar again. I spent 20 minutes playing whilst drunk on saturday. I could play a passably out-of-tune intro to Oasis’ Wonderwall. Fuck.