Venting, venting, venting.

[drui_en]

In the immortal words of Poppy Z Brite (whose books I have not yet read, but have heard incredibly nasty things about), “Some nights are made for torture, or reflection, or the savouring of loneliness”.
I’d have to agree with Poppy for the most part, though rather than savouring loneliness this eve, I’m focusing on a lovely glass of nepenthe and a

Comments

[frazzy]

Are you mad at me??

[drui_en]

no

[frazzy]

Why did you un-friend me on facebook?

[drui_en]

This is not a discussion for a public forum, Roland.