Me Me Me Me Me Me Me ME! ME! ME!

I’m eating drugs and my legs are so soft my face could cry. It’s been longer than previous times, this high, this happiness, this brand new world. But- still – I slip into self despising modes of torture to entertain myself in the company of some devastating soul; tidal and just so absolutely resolutely mother fuckingly there. There. There. What has happened to the other one? Oh, the streak of piss? Gone. As they do. Streak. Of. Piss. So, you know, I stay home nights and pluck my guitar- oh, yeah; ha ha. But- I do and the sound is pretty consistent, not necessarily entertaining but who do I have to entertain but myself? And then I might now and then- attach - for fun - some grand design to the architect’s sketches. Oh, a second bathroom I’d say! Oh- yes! How could we have thought one would be enough?! Well, I do live on my own! Ha! You do! Yes! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Oh, we laughed about that one. Well, I did- just then. Hmmm, right now? Well, I’m just sitting in the light of my laptop- background surrounding colour provided by fairy lights, I mean you look up and it’s suddenly cast through the eyes of this man that you’ve elevated; not recently. And- oh, yes; grotto!! But- not in a good way. Could it ever be good to visit someone’s home and find the Copmanthorpe Junior School Christmas Fete awaiting you, paralysed with on-the-knee-of-an-old-man-whisky-beard fear…shall we put a question mark down here before I get carried away? I mean, it’s not a bloody monologue is it?!! ha ha! No. I do like Gordon Benett though. A ha ha. Shut up. Ok. I THINK, this is THINK mind, I don’t KNOW- but, I think my music might be shit. Oh, hang on- I KNOW it MIGHT be shit. Sneaky that ego eh? Yes!- it really id! Oh, ha ha, stop- you’re killing me. Ha- KILLING ME?!! Honestly, this could go on all night!

Will make me feel ok?

The only way is up.

Terrifying.

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

Fennel fennel fennel fennel fennel. Fennel? Fennel! Oh, fennel.

You and your sodding text message hopes. Sodding text messages. Sodding messages. Sodding. Oh, sodding.

She cried a thousand more tears,

Filled her yellow room with woe.

People they came to see her,

They drank and they laughed,

And she told them to go.

Streak of Piss and The Idiot. (those are probably the two most profound pieces of naming I have ever done and I hope when I read this back I remember the love that went into knowing those two names. Do I need to ask for forgiveness? Is this what it is, that thing? When cleverness falls away from niceness out of necessity.

Shit.

Let go of him.

Because it would not work.

And, you will meet someone.

It doesn’t have to be soon.

Love fades.

Sometimes it takes a lifetime though.

And even then it exists.

In the back of memory

Not your own.

And now, here.

All in E.

Hilariously,

Melancholy.

If you were stupid being stoned would be like being a baby.

Oh, I get it!

Ha ha-

How embarrassing…

…guessing we should scrap all that Cleverness business then?

Yes…I, er- I think it’s for the best.

Ok.

- ….

…-

 

I’m having a party

But nobody likes me so

Nobody is coming

To my party.

Hi! Hi!- oh, how are you? I’m excellent! Oh, great! –um, how are you?! Oh, well- ha, I’m brilliant! Great! Yeah! –shall we leave it there?

Oh, why indeed!

Troupador walks into a bar.

Unlikely.

I went down to Whitby,

I went there on my own,

Because no one would come with me.

La la la la la la la

(bottom e top e bottom e top e bottom e top e …repeat into talentless eternity.)

nah nah nah nah nah.

Yes! Fame! Now my selfishness is justified! With lashings of glory to boot! (wallow wallow wallow)

Why.

On Earth.