There is something oddly reassuring in a fuck knows how kind of way about things just slipping back into a way that is apparently comforting and almost routine.
I don’t know why I say oddly. There’s not really anything all that odd about it. In some capacity it derives from that idea that home is a feeling and not a place and all that jazz, which when said out loud sounds like some other level pretentious shit but you come to learn pretty quickly that it’s an actual fact.
Basically this has come from the fact that I had dinner with my brother last night and it sort of just set things right again. After spending time away with everyone but him in Yorkshire a few weeks ago it kind of felt oddly like the universe was off kilter and even though for the most part of the last 5 years we’ve only lived together for a year of them it still felt slightly off.
And well, yeah I had dinner with him last night and things no longer felt off. It was just two hours of eating all the ramen and all the cake. And talking about fuck knows what, it was pretty much just reminiscent of the many conversations that we have had at like 1am when to be honest I should at least be attempting to sleep.
So, basically I spent Friday night in a relatively good mood after the last few days haven’t necessarily been the best and I could even forget that all the muscles in my legs have basically given up on me and to be honest they haven’t really returned to me yet, so I’ve spent today just lying on my sofa, watching TV and later on just going on a mammoth editing session which I will most likely continue into tomorrow because the 1st is fast approaching and I haven’t got the foundations down yet…
So I should sign this letter off and get back to that…
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