One day I'll have to face the fact that I have been saying all the wrong things

I have finally slept right. I have not done that in days. I woke up rested.

Last night, tired, I wrote, in front of a glass of gin and tonic, the following: "Let's ignore the dirt of the day, the physical pain, the thought of quitting four times in twenty four hours. Let's make a stiff gin and little tonic. My beard is getting softer. Is that good or bad? Let's listen to the real music, relax, talk to Mother. Who can deny life is pure poetry on a daily basis? You don't want anything anymore. You have no ambition. Do you believe that? Man is a strange animal." Mom never suspected I did want something indeed, which I have also got. And man is a strange animal, even sober I stick to this version.


Other place, other time, other scribble: "Princess Diana Memorial. It's closed and it looks like a golf course. I took a picture nevertheless. It's probably nicer without the people. I am taking a hike in Hyde Park and some pictures."