Diet.

I've got this wonderful opportunity to write an articule about Britain having an affair with art. I can't get down to it. That's because I'm trying not to have one with art(ists).

In the world, where a couple of emotionless blow jobs can get you everything that you've ever dreamed of, any true feelings are really undesired distraction. Getting out from “friends with benefits zone” can only complicate your life.

Last summer I treated myself with some emotional education. “Annie Hall”, “Titanic” and “Out of Africa” marathon. Now I think, that memorizing the scene of Robert Redford washing Meryl Streep hair wasn't such a good idea. Especially, when it happens in life and next day you're trying to fall asleep, disturbed with the smell of your hair and everything getting into your head again.

I feel like an obese person, who no matter how long have been on a diet or how well it goes always keeps a sweet tooth. Maybe it's the same with romance-seekes. No matter how many times you've let yourself get hurt or how bitter you think you've got. Maybe we just like it, when it feels so bad and sooooooo good at the same time?

Anyway, Merry Christmas everyone. (Anyone?)