Empty

The flat is empty.

Tumbleweeds are rolling down my windy hallway.

A lone banjo plays a few dramatic notes. (Actually, it's Gary Numan you're hearing, but let's just pretend shall we?)

I draw my... well, I'm trying to draw a new collection actually. Utterly lost in the feverish haze I've been stuck in the last two days. But I propped up on good strong drugs, and hoping that when my flatmates return they will come bearing Ben and Jerry's. Healthy? No. Tasty? Oh my yes.

When I leave my room, and Mr Numan's musical repertoire can no longer be heard, the only sound breaking the complete silence is my oh-so-sexy coughing and hacking. *snifl *kaffkaff *groan

I am considering making a dress out of hair. Not in a creepy way, so much as a Hedwig/fabulous way. But much bigger. And couture-ish. I am not sure if this is an unwise and incredibly difficult route to go down. So I might reconsider, given my time restraints. But how fabulous would it be to have a hairstyle that becomes your dress? I know a few drag queens back in SF who would give their left fake breast to have something like that. And if I made matching shoes... They'd have to cross their legs and stay seated for a while. (Oh and I am actually working a way to incorporate magnificent fake lashes into the dress too. Down boy. Down.)

Still no news on the marks for the Westwood-ish shirt. We are all very irritated about the two week wait. Nothing to calm a stressed student down like having no idea how they are doing on their work, eh?

Now, back to work. Will keep you posted on all fronts.