



I provide the pics above (Tokyo) without a further message other than to confirm the unrelenting high pressure of my lifestyle.
Author: Richmond Road
Who am I?


I get asked this question quite a bit. My honest answer is that I am a pathological liar and I assume that any further questions are thus rendered meaningless.
Nevertheless Rory, at aguycalledbloke has asked them anyway, and so I will answer with my usual degree of disarming honesty ……
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What is your favourite sweet treat?
Gee. That varies from day to day. I have broad tastes. Something soft but still chewy. Something I can really get my teeth into, in other words. And something that is not afraid to bite back, tenderly. In truth, it doesn’t really need to be all that sweet.
Oh, whoops. I misread the question. I thought you asked who is my favourite sweet treat.
If you want to really relax – what is your go to?
See above.
What is your guiltiest pleasure?
OK. This is like they do in those personality tests, right? Where they ask the same question over and over again, but cleverly reworded, to check for inconsistency?
Well …. I want it put on record that I don’t feel guilty about it at all. Not every time, anyway.
***
How good is this woman???

I share the following without comment.
Lovesick

Cyranny wrote some stuff about difficult love and dangerous relationships and it was really good …. but I have the attention span of a flea and suddenly, once again, I was off on a tangent and regressing back into my youth when, for just a few moments, I considered myself to be a rock and roll sex god, who wrote lyrics that were thankfully drowned out by loud music and unhealthy pharmaceuticals.
God, how I miss my own immaturity.
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You’re infectious baby
I’ve got the disease
I’m burning up
Thirty eight degrees
Sweetheart keep your distance
Please don’t touch
I can take some rejection
But I can’t take much
(Chorus)
I’m lovesick, lovesick, I’m not feeling so great
Lovesick baby. It’s not something that I ate
But I have to bring it up. The condition won’t abate
Lovesick baby. Let’s regurgitate
I’ve got this burning love
It feels so pure
But it’s a hot infestation
And there ain’t no cure
I tried some meditation
With the doctor of love
And I promised dedication
To the Lord above
(Chorus)
I’m lovesick, lovesick, I’m not feeling so great
Lovesick baby. It’s not something that I ate
But I have to bring it up. The condition won’t abate
Lovesick baby. Let’s regurgitate
But the Lord said nothing
‘Cause he couldn’t understand
He was far too busy
And he wouldn’t lend a hand
So I took to medication
Ignored the hymns and the psalms
If this is going to kill me
Let me die in your arms.
***