Tonight I spat on the floor of a public toilet. I wasn't drunk and I don't know why I did it; usually I would be disgusted with myself, but I feeling pretty pleased about it right now. I feel like I should do these things more often as tiny acts of liberating rebellion. Anyone reading this might believe me debase, but anyone who knows me knows that I'm really not. I just don't want to become one of those work-a-day lemmings you see dropping off the planet every day.
Judging by the state of the toilet cubicle, it hadn't been cleaned for a long time. The light buzzed and flickered. It stank of piss. So I don't think my saliva is going to do that much harm. Unless someone slips and falls into one of the unflushed bowls as a result of it being there. That's the worst that could happen. Pretty much the best situation we're looking at is one in which the bubbles and floating scraps of DNA combine and grow up from the floor into a new human. A human that reeks of alcohol-tainted urine. OH GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE?
The novel is finished. The spec letter and samples chapters are printed; the envelopes are written, ready to be posted to the agents. I should be more excited than this. But I'm tired. I've waited for this for so long, but the trials of working life are dragging me down, dudes. I just can't muster the energy to care about anything. Not even my face. Oh fuck. I have a spot.
I want to draw pictures again, and write some poetry. My surrealism walked out of the door months ago like a weeping raspberry playing a sad violin. Man oh man I want that bitch back.
I'm having a bad week. I guess I've been having a bad week since I got back from America two weeks ago. It was a genuinely magical week; too much happened for it not to have been real magic. We met the Jonas Brothers for crying out loud! I can't even go into it right now; if you weren't there then you won't understand. To those of you that were, I love you eternally.
Britain sucks. I feel old here! Really old. Like, so old I hadn't noticed it before because I'd forgotten how young I actually am. I put on my Red Sox cap and try to recapture former glories, but it's just not happening. My ears stick out and no one GETS it. Sweet Jerusalem I want to go back right now! Right. Now.
*closes eyes tightly and vanishes as though this is a movie and dreams really can come true*