so i lost a burberry and a moleskine and archy and mehitabel and got picked out the gutter by grace jones.
what do jim carroll and sam willetts have in common? i guess thursday was a real moment, a melting i suppose, water bursting through the bottom of the old proverbial bucket. well when ella was running for the taxi, the whisky fell straight through the bottom of the carrier bag. it smashed. i guess that was too much for me. what do notting hill, brixton, and that straight chick emma’s room have in common? i cried you know.
this really is the saddest story.
lol.
i guess i’m a thief. indeed that day i stole five pounds and a new bottle opener from charity. the week before i’d found two old chairs. i guess i just want relationships for free. i guess i’m still looking.
lol.
i kind of wonder though how people go about stealing jackets from clubs. its january, so they must already have one. so do they just walk out the club with another one slung over their arm? and just hail a taxi, or worse, get on the bus? there must be a law about that. you never get relationships for free
i also wonder what that guy must have thought when he looked through the notebook. its a shame, because i’ve had it for a month and i’d written so much in it, but i guess the first real thing i would have had to write in it would have been this. its funny that. would have looked lovely in that black ink.
this really is the saddest story.
lol.
i don’t know what more to say, if i should even bother saying any more. i don’t think i’ve really said anything at all yet. and bloody kwaku picked me off the side of the pavement. what a gentleman. the gay grace jones. and i couldn’t stop crying about how the poem had been lost. lord oh lord.
lol.
so what do jim carroll, sam willetts and don marquis have in common? they’ve all been lost i guess. although i feel kind of guilty about the last one.
lol.

LAST NIGHT WAS THE CAFE NIGHT!! HAHAHAHA IT WAS THE CAFE NIGHT. REMEMBER THE BRAZILIAN? WHO FED THE TRAMP THE BRAZILIAN WAS A DUDE! I AM GLORIOUS BECAUSE THIS MUSIC IS GLORIOUS HAHA THIS MUSIC IS THE BEST AT PLAYING EVERYTHING. 6AM WAS BEAUTIFUL, REMEMBER THE SHY SHALLOW RAIN SITTING ON THE PAVEMENT, ALL THE EVERY PEOPLE GOING EVERY WHICH WAY, LOOKING AT EACH OTHER, GIVING EACH OTHER EYES, HOLDING OUT THEIR EYES IN TWO HANDS AND GIVING THEM TO THE WORLD. I DON’T WANNA DANCE WITH YOU I DON’T WANNA DANCE WITH YOU. OF ALL THE AWFUL THINGS IN THE WORLD (AND MAYBE THERE ARE FEW???!??) MAYBE MCDONALDS BREAKFASTS ARE ONE OF THEM? I HAD A VEGETABLE SAMOSA IN THE CAFE, AND IT TICKED ALL THE BOXES, APPLE SALAD AND JG BALLARD, ALL HOLY IN THE MORNING. THERE ARE FEW AWFUL THINGS IN THE WORLD. ALL THOSE EUROPEAN GIRLS WITH THAT AWFUL CASHMERE SCARF MAN BUYING THEM SANDWICHES (THE BEST SANDWICHES. STOP HERE AND THINK: THE BEST SANDWICHES) THEY STILL LOVED, THEY GAVE THEIR UNEATEN SANDWICHES TO THE TRAMP! AND THEY SMILED. THEY MIGHT HAVE BEEN FROM THE BROTHEL. DO THEY STILL BELONG IN OUR WORLD OR ARE THEY FROM A BETTER WORLD? A THEY’RE FROM THE PAST!!!!! WHAT’S EATING GILBERT GRAPE? HAHAAAA. THIS SONG GOES ON FOR EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVEF AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER ANEVER ANE EVER AND EVER AND EVER ANEVERA ANE EVER AND EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVEREVER EVERE VER AND EVER AND EVER AND I JUST TYPED THAT ALL OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YOU WERE STRONGER YOU WERE STRONGER
WE’RE GOING ICE SKATING AND I STOLE SOME RED WINE
HAHAAAA
I DON’T WANT TO DANCE WITH YOU I DON’T WANT TO DANCE WITH YOU
I’M GOING TO DANCE WITH YOU FOR EVER.

THIS IS A RUNNING NARRATIVE BUT FROM WHAT

this is night. this is daytime without light, wide eyed and not shy, not reading either just trying all the different positions in bed as laughter comes from downstairs. my eyes are kept open, in rigor mortis, by the caffeine substitute that might be life. every now and again cars pass by. this is every type of jealousy, jealousy of other men and other lives and jealousy of my younger self (my younger life) and the small collection of memories of which it is comprised. beata beatrix. we were a band once, now we’re not. cars roll by, ever deeper, tumbling down a hill to the city centre like loose boulders, towards the river, the natural process of life. it’s all a cycle. we were a band once. beata beatrix. what happens in the end? she dies. my limbs are betrayed by life. this is night.

THIS IS A RUNNING NARRATIVE

SLAUGHTER SLAUGHTER SLAUGHTER I’M GONNA MAKE IT HUGE I KNOW ALL THE DJS. IT WAS THE DAY OF THE RIOT, WE MET AT BOND STREET STATION I WAS WEARING MY RIOTING JACKET (BLACK LEATHER, BERLIN WALL). MAC WAS LATE, WE WENT TO THE PUBS WITH OUR FLANN O’BRIEN AND OUR PARIS REVIEWS ORDERED A PINT OF BITTER AND A WHISKY SODA AND SAT IN THE CORNER POPPY HAD BEEN MODELING I HAD AN EIGTH OF WEED AND A NEW HAIRCUT BUT I SOLD THE EIGTH TO WILL ANYWAY COS I KNEW HE’D SHARE IT WITH ME FUCK IT WE COULD ALMOST HEAR THE PROTEST FROM OUR SHAMMY LITTLE HOLE BUT WE WERE NEVER GONNA GO OUR PARENTS ARE THE ONES WHO PAY FOR OUR EDUCATION AND THEY WEREN’T AT THE PROTEST, AND SAUL DIDN’T WANT TO. YOU GOTTA TRY THE BITTER, ITS DELICIOUS THESE BURGUNDY LEATHER SEATS ARE DELICIOUS, WEDNESDAY AFTERNOONS ARE DELICIOUS AND BEING SOLICITED BY A REAL TART IS THE MOST DELICIOUS OF ALL., AARGH FUCK IT I GOT THE HEEBEEJEEBEES ONE MORE PINT AND LOADS MORE CIGARETTES (IT WAS SO DAMN COLD..) AND I JUST WANTED TO BE ON MY WAY, MAYBE DOWN SOUTH BANK OR THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT OR ON BLOODY ROOVES SOMEWHERE, BUT ONE JOINT FIRST. FUCK IT I’M NOT GOING TO REGENTS PARK THATS BLOODY MILES AWAY LETS JUST SMOKE ON THE STREET IT’S FINE SERIOUSLY I’VE DONE IT BEFORE, C’MON SAUL, WE’LL JUST WALK ABOUT NO ONE CARES WE GOT BRAINS MAN WE’RE NOT STUPID SHIT ME I GOT ITCHY FEET, I JUST WANTED TO GET OUT OF THERE, I WAS RUNNING OUT OF PATIENCE I WAS RUNNING OUT OF BARS AND OH GOD NOW THEY WANT COFFEE THEY WANT TO OUTWIT THE MARIJUANA AND DRINK COFFEE I AIN’T GOT DOLLARS FOR COFFEE GUYS I’M GONNA SPLIT. I SPLIT. I WALK. I WENT TO PICCADILLY I WALKED THERE. FROM HERE THE STORY CONTINUES.
ART FILM HOUR AND A HALF
TUBE BACK HALF HOUR (QUICK STOP AT LORD SAINSBURYS FOR POTATO MASHER)
MEET THEM IN THE PUB AGAIN AT THE END OF MY ROAD 10 MINUTES
GET HIGH TWO HOURS (INCLUDING 45 MINUTES TO MAKE PIE AND MASH AND BEANS)
EXTOL THE MERITS OF HUMMUS AND KANYE WEST INDETERMINATE AMOUNT OF TIME
AT SOME POINT IN THE WHOLE AFFAIR I WENT TO BED (FIFA 11?) READ ABOUT THE REAL NEWS IN THE PAPER
AT SOME POINT THE STORY CONTINUES

dinner. bed. facebook. nothing.