Get your booster shot.
Alone, my head falls, shivers.
The fat man, correct.
That is an awful haiku. calling it one is stretching it.
But seriously, get your booster shot. I cannot emphasise how much I rue ignoring the text messages from my GP. Reflecting on cheerily telling a friend that it wasn’t necessary as I was not aged…oh how I rue!
I am currently a social pariah trapped in a room. A wonderful end to a turbulent year. At least there were some wonderful up moments in the form of very lovely dates and a dream work opportunity, to the downs. I now have plenty of time to write about the ups, as I find it better not to dwell on, or give oxygen to, the downs (but there are some tales to tell!).
So, I am once again changing my copy during this enforced solitude. How do people not change their copy? I write mine, think it’s fabulous then can’t bear to read it. I give it a painful glance after a few months, inevitably decide, “crikey this is terrible”, re write it, rinse and repeat. This is where I am now.
It is almost impossible to write copy without sounding exactly like a thousand other companions or, when avoiding the cliches, reading as poetically pretentious and belonging to a woman most would rather not contact.
I will always err on the side of poetically pretentious.
It’s the same sad tale with photos. Currently looking back at the countless images in my library and really preferring the 70s vibe shoots, but I was slimmer with smaller breasts so can’t use them, which means another photoshoot is on the horizon, rinse and repeat…
Can you tell I’m bored yet?