I went to Canada, it was fantastic. I took photos, they shall soon be posted. I just lost my best friend, don't know how I managed that exactly. I am hungover, I know how I managed that. I'm hopefully going to uni again next year, waiting to hear on that.

So yeh, that's it.

I have been in Apollo Bay all week, and have many photos to show for it. I have learned, at last, to use my camera. I am also, sadly, a blogger. I had so much writing from the past week, and people kept asking to read it. The simplest solution and all...

Blog excerpt:

Today I crafted a phoenix in the sand, with grass for feathers and charcoal for its eye. I left it there to die.

Am smitten. Is ridiculous.

Anyhow, am off to Apollo Bay for a week, just because. It will be good. I will walk by day, photograph where I will, and write by night.

Dali is great. His sketches blew my mind a bit. He knew exactly what he was doing. So good.

I have a comrade! It is good news.

And I went for a drive/walk to Emerald the other day, it was great. Was put very much in mind of Robert Frost when I looked over the photos. Hence every title is Frost.

You want people to hear your problems. You want them to hear what’s inside you; the very grindings of your soul, and you want them to love you for it. Sometimes you want them to hate you for it. I’m the same, but then, I’m a writer. People already hear my grindings. Writers, artists of any kind, musicians, we are creatures of sympathy. We’re not always outwardly sympathetic, but we can’t help but understand the way other people function. You read a shit book, and it’s shit because they didn’t make you feel what you were supposed to feel. A false writer can’t comprehend why the world turns. A true writer knows why it turns, but wonders why it doesn’t stop.

To be fair, it was the oven's fault.

And risk you being too embarrassed to keep saying such lovely things?

Brb, learning German.