Phew, thank fuck, the fucking intense attack of loneliness has lifted, may be back tomorrow but I don’t mind if I can enjoy it while it’s away. Rant, rump, runt, ramp. Ling. Conger. Vodka/hash interlude. For the rest of my life I hope. Hop or rope. Is that your watermelon, can I exchange it for a bit of fish-wrapper? Crab. Eel. My mates room is full of fridges now but there’s no fucking way I’m looking in any of the cunts, even when he threatened to shoot me. I don’t eat anything when I go round to his place anymore.
Think I’ve finally got the key to the blues, but it’s avery painful experience to go through ‘cos it’s all a bit too near the knuckle at the moment, but am going thru and will come out the other side with some magic music as ever, ha.… Read more