Tries to organise an orgy at our flat.... Total and absolute; an appalling and abject failure. In the end I just ended up sucking my flatmate off, while his girlfriend drilled me up the ass with an eight inch strap-on dildo. I mean: it was fun and everything, but a little bit of audience participation could have made a simply average night TOTALLY GODDAMN AWESOME. The applause at the end was good though. It's nice, feeling that your talents have been at least somewhat recognized.

I dunno bro, I mean, I didn't swallow—I just let that shit drip from my lips like so many dribbling drops of off-yellow spray paint –- but, you know, unless there's a chance of some AIDS going on I kinda think it wasn't really worth it, I guess I kinda have a death wish. But it's like this with everything, everyone wants to be a spectator—and nobody wants to be the spectacle.

Because being in the position of the watched is some harsh steel wool scrubbing on your skin. You must be willing to open yourself up to criticism from every angry angle. Hey, don't hate the PLAYA, hate the GAME. Hate the stark irreducibility of the black and white chessboard that lets me continue to let make my money: SYSTEMATIC IGNORANCE motherfuckers, it's IMPERFECT INFORMATION that leads to the MARKET INEFFICENCY that keep the Sir Edmonds flowing through my hands.

I have everything you might need. I am a purveyor of the purest distilled substance of dreams. I got the chemical formula to every problem you may possibly encounter.o

Man, my problem is I actually care. and the shit, the people, don't care about me back, cuts me like a broken window pane. God I'm such an idiot. To even imagine; this reciprocal,lunacy unpredictable by the most fortuitous of prophets.. What was I thinking. Basic, basal insanity. Base levels mmMagical wish fulfilment.

She is beautiful, but more importantly: smart and total. like a solar eclipse.

In comparison: I am dull shadow. And so stupid, so fucking stupid.

Why? Why! Do I fall in love? With anyone? I guess God really does play dice. So, so goddamn impressionable and so, so goddann stupid. I fall in love with these girls but you know, no matter. Flag it man; I've tumbled down too many stairs already.

Fuck it. They can crash into my iceburg, rather than vice-is-versa.

Man, at this late stage of the game, well, I've been clocked in the face a fair few times: but love is the most brutal thing i have ever experienced.

Fucking women man, like I got a clue what do to.

Dear Mother,

I realise I have been writing to you a lot about love recently, and lovers, and the types and temperament of love, and it's various cuts and carats, so I suppose you may have guessed that it has been on my mind a lot. I do hope I have not bored you to tears with my churlish observations - a serious risk, I admit - and yet I feel forced to continue. Your long-suffering patience has thus far proved indefinite; I trust you will forgive this also.

Love: sublime, yes, but alas it doesn't always work out. Imagine everything that was once so good, so sweet, so incredibly incredibly right and perfectly destined in the course of things is now just a lump of red hot coal burning a bottomless hole in the pit of your stomach. Caught up and helpless, tumbling and tumbling in the whirl of an irresistible force - the hand of God HIMSELF has picked you up and brought you into heaven! then slammed down viciously against the ground. Even the Fates themselves are shackled to Fortuna's wheel Mother, as I'm sure you are aware. To us small mortals it seems nearly impossibly that a fire so strong, so shining, could splutter out and rasp to embers, but it happens, and regularly. What's even worse is that the fire never entirely goes out. You know I wish to hell there was a simple switch that could shut off heartache with the flick of a finger. But there ain't. There isn't.

Old war wounds do tend to flare up on frosty mornings.

Hippocrates considered the matter medically, and once diagnosed a case of love sickness in the young prince of Antioch, who had unfortunately fallen in love with the king of Antioch's wife, his stepmother. The “cure” in this case was for the king to divorce his wife so his son could marry her — though how exactly this helps the likes of us I'm not sure. Some psychologists, agreeing with Hippocrates diagnosis, think love to be similar in structure to a mild case of obsessive compulsive disorder, or even a mania, a kind of mental illness that can take grip and shake the brain until it sloshes in it's globe.

I think of love as a piece of shrapnel, and some days are worse than others.

I like watching other people fall in love. Especially the burning bonfire of emotion that happens near the start. Even from a distance the reflected heat can be enough to warm your hands by, and if you still have a little soul left in you then you really can't help smiling. Seems to me falling in love is the closest we ever really come in timbre to a sustained note of joy. Generally the tempo of our changes in pitch is rapid, a brief semi-quaver of happiness and then it's back down again into the monotonous drone of the pipe-organ. You can draw out the aching spool of misery practically forever, a sharp thin line of piano wire stretching straight from moment of birth direct to your death, with very little effort required on your part, but a period of intense, almost overwhelming bliss that may last for weeks... months! is rare and too infrequent. Even in times of overall contentment and relative abundance it's more like the quiet simmer of a morning birdsong than a molten hot furnace bursting lava from your chest.

Even with the aid of chemicals, even with the various artificial sweeteners now provided by modern organic chemistry even then such feelings are fleeting, fast of foot and wary of capture, and afterwards you do pay, you pay very dearly for a trophy that ultimately turns to mist and memories in the space of just a few hours.

Whenever I'm feeling isolated and alone seeing lovers strike their sparks together always seems to rekindle my flickering spirits. If your pockets are full of nothing but your hands sometimes seeing a rich man strut and preen about the town in his freshly pressed tails and immaculate top-hat will just make you feel that much horribly poorer. In comparing ourselves with other people we tend to turn up the contrast knob on the television of perception, and are inevitably left to wonder what accident of fate left our greys bland pink, whilst all their colours, amplified a thousand times, now glint and glisten like Indian emeralds. It isn't that way with love, at least, it isn't for me.

Perhaps it's because we manage to mask so many other of the basic building blocks of human experience, we can attempt to hide our sadness, or our anger, or shame, when it suits us to do so, but love, being truly wild, love, that fine featured beast, love wants us to climb the tallest spire of the brightest star in heaven and sing out our romance to the entire world at once. You can definitely recognise the signs when you see it—doesn't need to be a full-blown case either—maybe someone just on the cusp, the beginnings of smitten. Normally we only talk about empathy when something bad happens: you say your cat died yesterday, and I of course will empathise sincerely, but how much better it is to feel empathy for someone else's joy! I remember how sweet the juice from those grapes taste, and I once felt as you now feel, and all things being equal I will one day drink that wine again.

Now I don't know about you, but I am generally so ripe with my own thoughts that I fill the whole earth with them, they walk around and talk like men I am that completely and totally absorbed in my own pitiable self-consumption, but shit like this shakes my tree a little and makes golden apples roll to ground. Working backwards from that strong and wonderful emotion we quickly find that everyone grazes identical animals on the village commons of the heart. Your loneliness is our loneliness, your disgust and laughter and rage and compassion are ours also to share in.

We all dip our cups in the same deep well and drink from the same clear water. There are certain things that, while perhaps not fixed rigidly in the sky like the constellations of the zodiac, remain, nevertheless, resolutely universal.

I always regret taking BZP after the fact. Have been awake for nearly 48 hours.