2nd September 2008

Woke at ten, cancelled all of my appointments, slept on til three, took a despondent lope down the street, deposited myself on an abandoned sofa, pricking my elbow on a protruding spring, contracted tetanus, as my jaw stiffened and my veins lazily pumped toxins into my deleterious organs, my eyes fixed on a corpulent, glistening mass of flesh in the middle of the street - The Boy-Faced Seal-Boy I'd dreamed of mere hours before. A standard, nondescript seal, albeit with the head of a young boy, flax-haired, coquetteish and confused. Smiling, his moist eyes creased, cheeks blushed with a youthfulness yet to encounter the poisons in whose marriage I thrust my ravening, crippled being with such rigour. I smiled back, a non-too-seismic arousal kicking in around my groin. A flipper arched, a coy flick of the tail, he sneezed, and a taxi obliterated it into a mottled paste, instantly to be scraped up by a lackey from the kebab emporium opposite the sofa. Later that night - and I keep forgetting to eat, my unorthodox and irregular sleeping 'patterns' veiling from me recognition of the need to ingest solid matter - stomach heaving with void, eyes like white-hot pinheads, I dragged my shitkicking paramilitary boots on, my ex-US army jacket, pulled on the garish reversible dyke cap I've been using of late to concentrate the intensity of my facial features, and ordered a kebab with all the dressings and sauces available, at enormous extra fee. Got home, unwrapped the meal, stripped off, draped the minced tendons of doner meat over my supine torso, smeared the amalgam of probable roadkill dressings over my crotch, deep into my pubic thatch, had a languid wank, rolled over to sleep, content that I'd not even contemplated gettingh smashed up on alcohol for the first night in seventeen years. Life is gruelling, exotic and murderous. As I pulled the duvet over my marinated, lanky slag of a body, I gazed up through my ceiling to the Lord Divine, winked and whispered, 'Thanks, you've been a great audience'..