November 14th: Adopt a bartender today

It's been a monh now. The shadows grow, reaching out from their depthless recesses to pull me to their embrace. My foe calls to me, desperate and monstrous, threatening to wrap me in it's coarse embrace and ne'er let go. The dark pull of habitual inanities have taken everything and dashed it to nothingness. I am so fucking bored. A month. A MONTH. Longer! Even. Two months! I have been unemployed for TWO MONTHS and I'm dying. I made Danishes at 4am the other morning. Why? Because I could. I made ANZAC Biccies the other day. They were delicious, yes, lovely and moist, but necessary? Also yes. But still.

This sudden bout of unemoloyment was not sudden. For the past twenty odd years I've had the odd though terribly inviting pull to move to the UK. And now I'm here. YAY! I'm unemployed and dying, but I'm here. And that's nice.

I'VE EVEN STARTED WRITING POETRY?! Two things I can't do. Cook and write poetry.

I've taken to sending cold emails out. I tried bribing them with Haribo. Haribo is yet to sponser my hunt.