Apparently in some European countries, what the US refers to as an Indian summer is called a 'grandma's summer' or 'old woman's summer'. I can't wear my perfect new jeans when the sweat sticks them to the backs of my knees. I want to want to feel warm. I also want to go to the beach, which is logistically difficult.
We've had a rabbit, called Captain Honey, for a week and a half now. I can't be sure, but I'm pretty convinced that she is everything good and pure in the world. She's also subtly ombre, which is very aesthetic.
I've been listening to old punk and emo music more lately.The music helps. So does finally owning black lipstick. The mall goth in me will never die. I watched some of an incredibly tacky and offensive series on Netflix about women who have murdered people and the woman in the dramatic reenactment of the Brisbane vampire murder had the same set of tarot cards as me. Imagine what my parents would say.
I'm actually very optimistic about things at the moment but last night I didn't have a proper dinner or get a decent night's sleep. Someone did screaming burnouts up the street at 2am. Some men talked about picking up chicks. The wall of the shower is smeared with blood from the mosquitoes I've killed. I hope the rabbit doesn't die.