Somedays, I sit, looking at the stars. I muse and wonder. I meditate and reflect. And I find the miracle in a new day of life. Especially since I swallowed so much glass the day before.

Nothing special here, move along, nothing to see, just ignore the lump under the sheet and the red stuff...

Makes ponies cry

Thanks, but please don't send me cash "tips." Instead, support this charity: The Fletcher Street Urban Riding Club.

Author and dramatic reader from YouTube. All your pony are belong to us.

Ceci n'est pas un cheval.

Politicians prey on the vulnerable, the disadvantaged and those with an infantile sense of pride in a romanticised national identity which was fabricated by a small to mid-sized advertising agency.

Beneath the microscope, you contain galaxies.

loves tiaras.