MY FACE COMES OFF IN THE SHOWER

I have not much to say, tomorrow is the day I begin working with a musical friend on a new endevour. I'm always anxious when teaming with people creatively as there's always room for critique, although I welcome that. Displaying private writing for the first time to somebody is bound to be unpleasant. I hope it goes well and I can spit and slice...

I want to be infamous.

Incorporeal I'd like to be

{En route to San Francisco. Taken on my phone.}

I can't describe what I feel, can't put my finger on it. Clouds are intangible.

I could freefall from the plane to burst into a billion molecules

A rhythm,

a wave

The void of space,
the hum of the universe.

TWO

This lazy, hazy hangover will most likely subside next Tuesday. After all, my weekends are longer than most people's and I consume an unfathomable amount of alcohol each and every day. The sun is bursting through my blinds and swelling my bedroom with light but it is most welcolme. I'm not really one to lay in bed all day, it's good to get up and out there. We don't have enough days like this on our wet little island, and when it DOES come we are embittered by the sweat and the sticky and the overpriced water in bottles.

My most favourite view is above the clouds out a plane window. Too bad the dreams in which I fly can't ever be true, perhaps I'll skydive one day. However knowing my luck I'd land with a splat and that'd be the end of me. Actually it wouldn't, I'd suffer endless injuries but bloody live on. I'm getting a really good list of scars from stupid accidents.

I am quite afraid of falling to my death. I also have a considerable fear of glass and one day I am convinced I will trip in the street and poke an eye out on one for those godawful spikes they put along the fencing in Camden. I always walk next to the road to avoid them which also is senseless because I'm fairly certain I will be run over. Hopefully by a bus and it'd be quick, but I'd probably get a moped sever or break a limb and carry on to live another day as a sort of frankenstein doll.

Now this is really no way for a rational mind to be thinking on a beautiful day but such is me. I know it's not normal but I do see trouble wherever I look.

Last night I bumped into the one they call Princess Julia and discussed possibly moving in to her Old Street flat. I'd like to move to East London, the atmosphere is vibrant and there's always new people to befriend or irritate. I'm nervous that it's almost too 'cool' for me. I'm usually on the cusp of cool but never quite there, thankfully because I know I couldn't handle being considered cool. I'd fall over or say the wrong thing and be old hat before I knew it. So much for being a Camden crusty.

Anyway, time to view a flat.