(as scrawled):
asking everyone to shut up. talking in written sentences. big house and garden what do i know? they blamed the family tree and it stopped growing and then it was done. it was me

so last night kieron was on the front cover of the sunday times writing about good sex. that's the main bit i remember. there was something else about surprise and a gun fight, but i think that was someone else.

i'm adrift in the fog, sailing dead away from the only big boat i know to be here. i know i need to go back because i'll die in this mist, but i don't want to. back to the boat is back to university, and some people i wasn't expecting to see again were there, refusing to answer my questions, with new hair and different lives. there was more. at one point i am back at university, looking out at the sea, and i see the little boat that i was in, and the patch of fog i was stranded in. it looks like such a small boat, and the mist is localised around it. it wasn't really very much, i just couldn't see from inside. i smoked a cigarette in a tunnel, and talked to him through a wire fence, like a concentration camp. i don't know if i was in or out. he looked terrible. i had to pack for another journey i think too.

find a shortcut home. sit on motorcycle in a pond. water reaches halfway up the tyres but it's floating, not touching the bottom, and i'm revving it up. i send down depth charges to explode all the fish. i see crisp packets come up. then i'm running through the forest and i scare all the hairy pigs. they scatter like pigeons and i feel sad.

had one of those nauseating days - you know. one of those days where you feel happy to be alive. and happy to know the people you know. and sad because you know you'll miss them. but happy because you know they'll miss you too. sun wasn't even shining much today. it was cold. and i walked a lot. and i had fun. FUN. like, actual fun. got into a canoe into a lake and sat and paddled and talked and threw chocolate at other people in other canoes. it wasn't like my life at all. it was wonderful.

i feel dirty

fucking F-word

i killed someone. "i shot him" i said. "don't worry," someone else says, "i have kitchen roll."

george w bush is in charge and he's leading us through this hotel type thing. he's sort of yapping. we're all at dinner and he only talks to the boy who's just admitted cheating on his girlfriend. george says he likes boys who like fucking. he ignores the girls so we go up to a room on the top floor and sit round throwing a bit of scrunched up turkey meat at each other. i am bored and the next time someone throws it at me i decide to skim it out of the window. this is fine except that we're quite high up and the turkey ball increases in size as it drops. i don't see it, but i hear the thump as it hits someone on the head, and we all hear the yelling and the splash as the person has fallen into the fountains. someone says "i think we just entered a wheelbarrow" and we all laugh like it's the end of a famous five story.

lots of dreams. i think i'm going to be having lots more now. in one i was jaundiced but it was okay. and i was late. but that was okay too. i've managed to completely forget all of the interesting bits. won't next time.

everyone had arms that were grabbing out at me and their faces were all blurred. have a vague sense of music sort of passing by with lots of bass.