An eight hour overnight Art-Athon to raise money for a BPD Charity, with me just typing. It might have been the lack of sleep, but I sobbed like a baby after I typed the last word.
We started late – at 10.10pm (not correct to the nearest second, but close enough for our purposes).
Actually, it started when I was getting the back of my train seat kicked for half an hour on the way here, but that’s part of the pilgrimage; a latter day trail to Santiago – well, Derby. DBT (Dialectical Behavioural Therapy) has brought me here. That and Borderline Personality Disorder.
Ten minutes late is ten minutes late however you look at it. We can’t go back – put that in your metaphysics pipe on a cold evening and puff on it for as long as it takes for your eyes to start welling up. Usually I’d be concerned I was ripping off all my Sponsors, but tonight is magic: there is a whiff of cosmic-tilting-planet fuckery and we get an extra hour as the clocks go back at some point in the…
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