I know that you don't care but I want you to know

And how should I presume?

I'm in ur libertines biloing ur biggles
22 January 1985
I'm a 28 year old English Literature graduate who lives in a small town in the East of England. I work for a publishing company. I'm a non-man, non-smoker, non-driver. I'm rubbishly shy. I like reading, especially historical fiction, stuff with corsets and the like. I also love Virginia Woolf and Katherine Mansfield a lot. I'm attempting an Open University Masters in English. (Eep!)

I have reactivated my LJ purely for Rush reasons. I regret nothing.

When I'm drunk I can be an asshole, but that don't mean I've got no class no.

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?