March 20th, 2004


when every second lasts a thousand years and every shot glass holds a million tears

I was recently reminded of an incident I witnessed whilst coming down from taking 'shrooms in a field in Canters. A jeep pulled up to that strange hand-operated train crossing and a young kid hopped out to pump at the lever. They drove across and, just before the kid got back in after letting the barrier down again, a collie (or whatever) jumped out and sprinted away across this massive field. It was barking wildly all the time and just kept running – running far for the sake of running. The bright sun was beginning to set and the dog instantly disappeared into the swampy grass by the various rivers. Meanwhile, the dude had come out of his car to calmly help his son look for their pet. All the time this was happening my shitfastdrugcrazed thoughts were slowing down and coming back into place while the schizophrenia slowly faded away.

There I was stood on the top of this fucking hill watching these guys search for their beloved animal while the sun splendidly dropped below the horizon. I was silhouetted there - a feeble man blackening the last bright rays of a billion-degree summer sun which melted between colours as it was refracted by our smog. I watched their unsuccessful forays for perhaps half and hour before walking back through the parks, fields and real-life people back to my room.

[to be inserted in this space: something else – another memory of beautiful times I was once able to recall]


Mount and I spent a double chemistry practical painstakingly constructing a glass giraffe from capillary tubes. We had to gently warm the brittle material over a Bunsen then, just as it began to soften, quickly tug it apart so that it stretched but stayed completely intact. The full extent of our combined creative talents were required to fuse the giraffe's various body parts together and creative an animal of just the shape we required. When the giraffe (by then a delicate piece of immeasurable beauty) was finished, I presented it to Mr. Rodwell as he possesses an inappropriate affinity for the long-necked African ruminant. Soon afterward it had been destroyed when I accidentally knocked it off my shelf. Sam Mount and I only found out afterward that the lessons had been set aside to contribute toward our final coursework marks for the two-year course.

Also: my Reading 2003 wristband had finally disintegrated to the extent that it fell off on Friday, 19th March 2004.


I tried to drown in your flame
somehow i let the fire escape
and i can only blame myself
a rubber soul is hard to sell
you pull me in and push me out
you tie me up and tie me down
you give me space, i'm locked in chains
i want your fire, i need your faith


And then the following: no sooner had my whole delusional deal with Sophie's insecurities and her insane claims to have wanted to bone me died down this came alone. I find out that Clare actually has the hots for me (uh, wtf?) just at the same time as I find this chick called Holly who I think is really rather hott. I don't understand why Sophie would tell me that she once fell for me any more than why nothing ended up happening because of it. And then, after I've exchanged several pounds worth of SMS data with Holly, Clare scarily PHONES ME UP out of the fucking blue and begins weighing up her qualities and jealously asks me not to bone the other two. The weird thing is, no matter how imaginary it ought to be, this is real and this is now.

However, I'm sure emoness will prevail. Knowing how bad everyone in the world fails at life, it'll all be gone in a couple of days.