I was watching a Tv show called: how to be bohemian, I think it was on iplayer ( when it was still free to watch) and they were talking about this group of people, i cant remember who, that wrote books which were publish with yellow covers: this apparently was ver bohemian. I thought the whole thing was quite funny, the commercialisation of this idea of Bohemians: its something you can become by buying things now, lush even do a soap called bohemian. I had a slight feeling of disappointment at the idea that now there is a the loss of anything real that is bohemian, this book was made ironically out of corporate Starbucks napkins and is badly bound in a yellow cover. The stories are pretty rubbish and unreadable because of the way it is sewn together. Maybe with this I am also expressing a feeling of loathing towards a part of myself: the part that I worry is just an image of something lost, and the part of myself that likes things I know I shouldn’t.
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