look at your writing a if it were written by your enemy – look for what is wrong. snub that bitch! when you read your own writing to praise it – you’re blind to your mistakes – you can’t see good and bad at the same time. you just can’t.

“we’re all wendys in peter pan, all going to grow up one day – we’re all going to betray our childhood and stop believing.”

can i walk up your ladder?

Thursday, July 20, 2000 – Oxford, ST EDWARDS not EDMUNDS!

room astray, the maids stole back the artwork i stole from the hallway. dagnabbit. they must think i purposely leave my room in the most disasterous of states – just to piss them off. i hope they don’t go through my things.

an orange and black coffee for breakfast – shudder. eeuugh.

stumbling through the suburbs and i fell apart.

i can’t believe i’m consuming this oily coffee.

August 10 2000

Portobello rd.

throbs of humans stalls upon stalls clothing, trinkets, sparkled belts, antique chests, tins sue smokes a cigarette after supper. pigeons gather at your feet sweat falls down your neck man piping his accordian boy playing the steel drums fresh peppers fresh tomatoes fresh food open patios eating the sun pints and people chatter and gawk i’ve seen your face before but will i see you again tomorrow

a couple holding hands in dreds him wearing a kilt her in a sarong beads on their wrists and ’round their necks makes you acknowledge your loneliness

who will hold your hand love, who will hold your hand

i don’t even know the color of my own eyes i see my face minus the eyes