Soup-Kitchen Roots

Dear Diary,

On the Flex?! No. Not really. I've run out of all supplies except food, and it's Thorsday already, a rubbish day and the 'seige' without vice. Thankfully I am to perhaps be recompenced, if only a mere modicum for picking the boy up from school, and sitting for two hours. Anyway. For the moment I'm fcuked. For vice at least. Nothing doing. Just the guitar. It's all good.

What the fcuk are we gonna do Maxy Waxy?! Hmmm.!? Get the fcuk back On the Flex is what. Find your path. Musca de la vita. Yea. Verily I say unto thee: What's happenin' man? I don't know ... what I'm writing here, but I do know, things are gonna sober up, very fcuk shortly, but that's cool. I can say in all honesty that I hath been sober for three days already, but today transgressed, if only slightly. In celebratory fashion for completing chapter two (by the awesome Ole Peter Grel) I should quite rightly indulge in a small victual, of only for morales sake.

Take Care y'all. I'm hoonered right now, but not for long. Whatever the 'morrow brings, it's alright by me, merrily. G'night blog-world. Stay On the Flex.

Maxy xx