Surrounded by the tide of humanity. What do I let in? Drown. The spare phone doesn't have data capabilities, so I can't check my email. Finally managed to get the CD burner working - burned all but one of the discs I wanted - should be able to do the other one tomorrow. Probably the worst band in the world playing in the St. Christopher's tonight. Evil. I am nothing. Fear me. The emptiness calls. Endless scream with no-one to hear. Ting. Tang. Sense. Nothing. No-one. Nowhere. Parcel. Not from Amazon - but they are not the only order I have placed. Lyais. Chaos. Start. Pineapple. Bord. Bork. Cleaver falls. It's a game of choice. No choice. I am me. Nothing prevents that. Nothing can present that. Fistfuck. Dancing spirals around the opportune. Eating mexican rapidly. After images. Nothing. Not aging. Not anything. Tring. Sarrat. Shiver. Goodbye.
Thursday, 18 November 1999
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