I've been working hard for three days to replace lost hours last week. I had an umbrella sword fight. As the victor - I was wearing a cape - I was granted a taxi ride to the Chinese restaurant that, in back, lets loose characters singing songs written by all kinds of other people - Australians! - and continue drinking. The toilet was a mess. I thwacked him on the shin and danced a step away whistling the cape through the barking cold out-pub courtyard. For the honour of a maiden!

Later, we stumbled into a gay pub in red lights and I gave up the cape to a man painted green wearing a swim cap and asked for Chain, The, but a man younger than me didn't have it or any similar.

I turned 26 last month, aged and far too close to the end. I talked a lot, drank more, felt the chemical interactions and the bleach white corn and the irascible mother fucker come on like depression. And I read a whole bunch of books and saw a whole bunch of movies while I was 25. But didn't write for shit. Yikes. Bell Jar, wow. Forever War, relativistic effects on the human condition! Notes from an Exhibition, unwordy fun, charactergood. Neruda full up with sea! Iran humanism from P...p? P...forgot. Ludwig...logic you somehow understand lets you tell me what I wanted to hear. Pity booksellers don't stock Philosohical Investigations, keep sending me the same wrong book and give me refunds afterwards.

New understandings from a new source.

PS Comment below is from old entry. I forgot that it would do that. I'm reminding myself to create NEW ones, not edit.