Something Johnny Cash Related. Possibly Peggy Lee.
The wheels on the bus go round and round… Round and round… round and etc.
Fever passed about 5 this morning, talking to Ashcroft about Dragons and boats and all sorts of fucking nonsense, very sorry mate.
And as far as yesterdays post, AH HA! Aww. Fever! In the morning, fever all through the night… brilliant. I wrote loads of absolutely mental stuff yesterday, that was just the tip on the iceberg, loads of letters to my dad, like he’s gonna get to read them, he’s at the bottom of the sea. I wrote a good long review of Fuck the Pain Away by Peaches, I think I had it playing. I ascribe it to such literary greats as a Midsummer’s Nights Dream… and Spot the Dog goes to the Circus. And I might have done a bit of redecorating in Izzys room, lots of fairytale creatures. I’m possibly too good at drawing imps and fairies and goblins etc. And the film’s gone on my Camerara so I guess I was having an ultra creative illness. I think I took arty shots of some pigeon outside my window. I remember Pigeons.
ARGH still ill though, therefore cannot be arsed being my usual witty self. So this reads like an ACTUAL fucking Diary entry, fuck me! The boy is too far gone for words…
I’m being haunted by the ghost of Frank Sinatra, I’ve got him under my skin.
I have forgotten how to do up ties as well, I’ve been trying for the last half an hour to do up this tie. I have a bar opening to go to and I can’t do my tie. It’s all hopeless. I forgot to get a date as well, bugger.
I forgot to eat something for my dinner as well, fuck, ill AND sloshed, if anyone sees me up town please don’t convince me that I live in the canal cause I’ll fucking believe it.
I don’t swim too good when I’m drunk. Ah ha I can try though.
It’s called Dog Star, this new club. Bet its shit.
Alligators and all that.
JY?
Fever passed about 5 this morning, talking to Ashcroft about Dragons and boats and all sorts of fucking nonsense, very sorry mate.
And as far as yesterdays post, AH HA! Aww. Fever! In the morning, fever all through the night… brilliant. I wrote loads of absolutely mental stuff yesterday, that was just the tip on the iceberg, loads of letters to my dad, like he’s gonna get to read them, he’s at the bottom of the sea. I wrote a good long review of Fuck the Pain Away by Peaches, I think I had it playing. I ascribe it to such literary greats as a Midsummer’s Nights Dream… and Spot the Dog goes to the Circus. And I might have done a bit of redecorating in Izzys room, lots of fairytale creatures. I’m possibly too good at drawing imps and fairies and goblins etc. And the film’s gone on my Camerara so I guess I was having an ultra creative illness. I think I took arty shots of some pigeon outside my window. I remember Pigeons.
ARGH still ill though, therefore cannot be arsed being my usual witty self. So this reads like an ACTUAL fucking Diary entry, fuck me! The boy is too far gone for words…
I’m being haunted by the ghost of Frank Sinatra, I’ve got him under my skin.
I have forgotten how to do up ties as well, I’ve been trying for the last half an hour to do up this tie. I have a bar opening to go to and I can’t do my tie. It’s all hopeless. I forgot to get a date as well, bugger.
I forgot to eat something for my dinner as well, fuck, ill AND sloshed, if anyone sees me up town please don’t convince me that I live in the canal cause I’ll fucking believe it.
I don’t swim too good when I’m drunk. Ah ha I can try though.
It’s called Dog Star, this new club. Bet its shit.
Alligators and all that.
JY?