Thursday 5 August 1999

Beep

Heat, sticky.  Mind the gap x2.  Behind the yellow line on the red line.   Ruin transfer rumble crash squeak.  Posh voice.  Beep whoosh.  Why have I been writing for others to read? - that was never the point.  St Paul's.   Hungry - what shall I eat?  What am I hungry for?  Why am I empty.   Crash beep whoosh.  Bounce inspiration not coming.  Why are there so many beautiful people in the city?  I fit even less here than elsewhere.  Grill reflected in the screen bouncing as I write.  Chancery lane.  Hand hurts - I should move it, but it is good to feel something other than the dull ache inside.   Holborn - 1 more stop.  Stoat Ealing Broadway Piccadilly piccalilli.  Exchange.  Comics soon...