A Squeal Of Pain

If you back your Don Juan credentials or you're just a cheeseball, you should get your nan to get medieval on the Amazon app and 1-click you this little book for Christmas.

This one's cool. It's some girl-on-girl ting

Vita Sackville-West addressing the object of her affection Virginia Wolf.

Milan, January 1927

I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite desperate human way. You, with all your undumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn't even feel it. 

And yet I believe you'll be sensible of a little gap. But you'd clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it would lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is really just a squeal of pain. 

It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan't make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this - But oh my dear, I can't be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. 

You have no idea how stand-offish i can be with people I don't love. I have brought it down to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And i don't really resent it.


Right, more posts about kicks and hip hop and homicide and shit.


  1. Please get laid before your next post.

  2. do the maths mate. chicks love this kind of soppy shit.

  3. The sums are done hombre, you hit rate is the square root of sweet FA, multiply that by a factor of 5 for the lack of style and personal hygiene and you're on the fast track to internet stalking!

  4. just spent the last 48 hours tindering the heezy out of your MUM. hate to break it to you conan. she's a man.