Night quasi-normal. Strange dreams, without worries, without foundation. Sports dreams and death. The noose is tightening, I hope.
Passage to the pharmacy at dawn where the "horrors"? Antipsychotics in command issued. Nothing to add. The pharmacist always gives me big smiles as she am nice, kind and polite. She is not afraid of my disease.
I sent a note to Oxmo Puccino who told me via Twitter DM. As he said himself in his bio: "Musicopathe Rapologue / / Unreachable but accessible ...". I love this man, sensitive heart, his music, his writings. In the past, I visited his country and his city ... Bamako. Wonderful memories.
should I stop tearing the drawings I preparing for the next show but I'm not satisfied. And I have not the courage to work harder and better.
My thoughts for my great friend that I'm having roommate for five weeks in seeking an internship as part of his training in my city. I can not wait to have it under my "ceiling". I love him very much and I would not be alone.
I put on a wetsuit and take a cold shower queue. Do not think that please, it's just humor schizophrenic.
Yours.
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