This actually isn't difficult. It's pointless, certainly. But it isn't difficult. Stream of consciousness writing requires only consciousness which is something most (not all) people seem to have in plentiful supply.
Pointless, though. Definitely pointless. Nobody's reading this. I don't think for a second anyone ever will. Which is exciting, in a way. This is a great lost journal. Like Anne Frank's Diary...if that was lost.
But let's not dwell on the details. I like writing, so I should do it for myself. I'm doing Advanced Higher English this year too, so this kind of thing is vital (they'll tell you).
Anyway, what an eventless day. That's an order of magnitude lower than 'uneventful'. Nothing happened. People will try to dispute that but that is fact. Life was cryogenically frozen just for today.
I had a McDonald's. Double cheeseburger, chips and coke.
I'll end this with a little album review of an album that's not new or hot. The Antlers are a band I've always meant to get round to, but have been put on the backburner while I slit my wrists and listen to other depressing music. Wow, though. Wow. I can't quite be sure that I've just listened to a masterpiece, but I'm confident enough to say that it is a fucking goddamn masterpiece for chrissake. Moving, lovely, lively, emotional, shit, fuck.
God this is shit.
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