Another morning hung over. I tried to shower some of the feeling off, but it didn't work. As I got out I remembered I hadn't washed my hair, but I couldn't be bothered turning the taps on again so I left it. I'll use the shampoo in the next shower I have. I shaved, deciding I don't want to go through the hassle of shaving off a beard again. Only cut myself twice. Just small nicks, no large scratches or anything. I'd think I'm getting better at it, but I know I never will. Last few days I've had the song kill your sons by Lou Reed going through my head. It's about when he was in an asylum, or whatever the euphamism they use for them these days, and the effects the electroshock and the different drugs had on him, as well as his feeling of betrayel at being in there in first place.