Thoughts? Answers on a postcard

[¡Punk!]

I tried phoning Kat again but it rang out. I can't believe how much I miss her. I also can't believe how ignorant I was when slagging off "love" songs. The term "broken hearted" suddenly makes sense. There's a gap in my chest that I swear to Allah I can feel parts missing. My spine between my shoulder blades feels cold without the muscle for pumping blood round me sitting in front of it.
The pain in my stomach grows when I think about her. I've been sick a few times. I had to force myself to do it but my brain seems to think I've got some sorta bug in me causing this pain and I find myself retching. Only by sticking a couple fingers down the throat can I stop that. I'm supposed to make the girl cry: not the other way round.

I hope she's happy. I'm not.

With this in mind I decided to finally leave Greenock. Seems odd that I always said I would never leave this Utopia and it took a bird from some village near Aberdeen who stayed in Glasgow to make me want to. I'll come back mind. Got too many lassies from around here I fancy and aint shagged yet and still never seen Morton play in the top tier or reach a major cup competiton final. If I think I feel bad now I can't begin to imagine how I would feel to see us beat one of the Old Firm or hump St. Mirren in the cup or relegate Airdrie United to send us up. I think I'd top myself.

So thanks for that Kat. I'm sorry I shagged around behind your back, I'm sorry I sliced your foot open and you needed stitches. I'm not sorry I could make you cum about three or four times in a row and I'm not sorry I bought you all those punk CDs. You fucking loved them and you know it.

So I got the bus into the town. Had a fiver so figured that could get me a return and a bottle of cider or two bottles of white cider but don't worry Kat: You've not fucked me up to the stage I'm drinking that shit yet. I went in the town to look at jobs at the buroo. I coulda done it at home on t'internet but wanted out the house. I wanted cider as well I suppose.

Decided to look at foreign jobs and one came up in Tenerife. English speaking barman, that's me, wanted for German run hotel in Tenerife. Must be competent in German, that's not me, or Spanish; that is me. For over the summer. £100 a week with accomodation and meals provided. Flights over and back paid for. I went for it.

Fuck this town. A summer away, maybe more, will do me wonders. I'll meet people who don't have that grey faced facade every person has here. Why the fuck they call Aberdeen the granite city I don't know. Fair enough the buildings look that way at least the people don't. They're all chuffed they've got that oil money coming in. Jammy bastards. I wonder if the town felt this way with the shipyards or the IBM in full swing.

Just something I jotted down the other day. Might yet make more of it.