I looked out of the window to the Oxford canal, and saw a bright pink suitcase floating there. I mentally cursed myself for not disposing of it more cleverly, and for choosing such a stupid colour in the first place. Someone was bound to spot it, and though I was pretty sure that they'd never link it to me, I'd prefer that it was still safely out of sight. And why? Because it contained the dismembered spindly body of Lorna, my housemate.
No idea what context this had, or what it all means. My housemates seem to come off rather badly in my dreams...
Autobiographical fact #8: I'm going down the pub, now. You'll have to wait until tomorrow for anything better than this...
Current web-site: The Onion. Not as good as it was, perhaps, but still worth reading. Decent film reviews in the 'AVClub' bit too.
lethargic