Writer’s Notebook: Scratched Vinyl

Posted: June 4, 2015 in graffiti living
Tags: , ,

Broken moments, another evening close to the end. Close the sleep and bored but at least trying. And now really fucking hungry so I really should go to bed. I’ve got jobs to apply for and someone just shoved a PHD in front of me again.

Fuck it, I’m old. Do you have any idea how old I am. Am I writing? Am I dead yet?

Got asked what the tablet was I was taking. Politely refused to answer, more because I think it’s none of their business than anything else. They probably know or suspect but frankly it’s nothing to do with them. And I’m not prepared to have ‘the discussion about anti-depressants’ over a decision I’ve made about my own fucking life.

With all due respect.

The dreams have been strong and constant which is odd as it only highlights just how much I’ve not been dreaming as much for years. Fuck it, I’m dead anyway. Let’s see what happens.

But goddess if you can use this to our advantage please do so. God, I wish you looked like a mermaid. Long story. Are you friends with sirens or something?

Feel a little dizzy and foggy but not dead just yet. Still me, but with more levity. Still grumpy, bitter and sarcastic but now I find this funny. Still have headaches but so what. Not well in every sense and noticeably exhausted, but I really hope this helps.

I don’t want chemical castration or lobotomy. But I don’t feel wrapped in cotton wool, just like I’m floating several inches out of my own body.

And I’m listening to music again. Lots of it. That’s where the blood is. We sat on the floor and listened to music like we used to do when we were children. The kids were just looking for a way home.

Who knows what happens to friends these days. Break open the head or destroy the heart. We didn’t burn the bodies, but the mind shines bright. Or something.

Who are you? What are you looking for? Why are you here? What do you really want?

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