Listorama: Facebook status updates vol 5

BetaRish is...

enough

looking for comrades to keep him warm

reversing. Beep beep!

will probably still be laughing tomorrow, after seeing Josie Long and Stewart Lee

probably like the lamb he’s just consumed, is lying down

troubled by the difficulties of efficient resource allocation in a market economy, is vowing to buy only one book tonight

thinkin’ ‘bout a revolution

wearing a tyre

woke up half an hour early, and is grumpy because of it

the loveable desi, according to that app. Eh?

really should go running more often. Or is that less?

appears to have completed his Christmas shopping

loving Common’s ‘Be’

wishes everyone a tremendous Chrimbletide

steeling himself to go shopping

still a bit woozy from giving blood yesterday. The run this morning didn’t help either

avoiding tasks, but finding words

drinking pink on the first day of the year

has that back to school feeling…

kwik-sotic. An unsayable word, according to some, eh Hol?

and a sore throat are friends once more

slightly concerned that sore throat has moved his friends, blocked nose and headache, in without asking

has just about got his new toy up and running

struggling with the flow of a prose poem

wondering where those bags came from

would like some unbroken sleep at some point, like, ever

slightly startled that he wandered round Borders for an hour last night, and only bought 1 book. I must be ill

using his iPod Touch to play with facebook. It feels a bit odd

cursing; weather, dampness, alarm clocks, everything really

a fact. And that’s a fact.

avoiding reading

woke up, dreaming another poem into life

dreaming of a land that isn’t damp

thinks the novel is making him angsty

raising sand, with the help of Robert and Alison

: a man, a plan, a canal – Panama

still slightly stunned from meeting Gordon Ramsey at lunch

thinks back pain and lack of sleep are quite enough, thank you

on the way to Staffordshire. Looks damp out there

feeling The Feeling

but a ripple on the pond of time

wondering where the native British genius for creating and curating pop culture comes from

rueful after one of the more expensive nights of his life

a wee bit irritated that the wi-fi doesn’t stretch to the kitchen. Grrr.

tired of Gordon Smart’s sexist, inane prating

all eh? what? that? nooo…

thinks Robyn Hitchcock is a reasonably amusing chap

reckons the last day of the month has come around too fast, and is all ‘Whither January?’