last night was my godbrother's 21st. the food was brilliant, but i tuned to a completely different frequency from that of my godsister Lucy's friends. i find it humanly impossible to care about my attractiveness-to-the-male-species quotient, so i drank champagne while they talked about eyebrow-plucking and other things i don't give a shit about.

i met a really cool lady from Brazil, though. she says people from her country dance in the streets. i think i should consider moving to Brazil.

outside is darkening into evening, and my back hurts from laughing. Teenage Fanclub is blasting. at moments like this, i am indeed glad to be alive. happiness is like shells around my neck; i can hear the sea in them.

i hope they won't turn into voids.

i have so much free time i don't know what to do with it. i think i'll write a story about someone named Jack.

in the meantime, have fun with this.

there won't be any school till the 6th of april, because we're all being quarantined. if you want to know the truth, my universe is kind of off-centre right now. halfway between quiet resignation and druggy happiness, i guess. i don't see the point of BBC flashing short videos of smoke and injured Iraqis. i'm forced to keep it on, though, because stupid heather fancies Tony Blair. there goes poor old Paul Adams reporting again; he seems to have grown more wrinkles, namely around his eyes.

i wonder what i'll be like in two decades. i wonder about everyone and everything. i can roughly guess i'll be wearing jeans and striped socks. maybe you will have wires plugged into you and they'll be painting identical pictures with the blood of others.

jazz pieces are really very beautiful. they remind me of avenues, coffee, and ink-blue skies.

school began again today. i'm still clueless as to what is going on during Additional Mathematics (my tutor is in Sheffield). but everyone is still as cool as ever, so that's okay. cassandra has been forced to move away, which is a pity because she's very funny and i really enjoyed working out chemical equations with her.

at six o' clock i've got to start work, because i want to lie in bed and read. will i able to answer all my questions?

heather: bollocks!

"War is never right, it never determines who is right or who is wrong. All it does determine is who is left."

this is the wisest thing from anyone i've heard all week.

my mother relented and agreed to pay for several books. Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha, which i've been longing to read, and another two by Milan Kundera. Milan Kundera's prose is beautifully erotic, even though sex might not be the subject matter. i constantly come across sentences which lead me to believe he is not a being in this world, but in fact an truth-seeking observer from the moon.

apparently, i'm born under the star Sirius. cool coincidence. Literature essays should be abolished.

bohemia, where have you gone.

i don't care if you have thousands of fanatical supporters or if you think America has committed a "crime against humanity". just, fuck you, Saddam.

speed is a continuous stream that compels like an electromagnet. it pulls at my heart when i ride the train, and i forget all that can't keep up. i want to send everyone in pain away on wheels, so their hair soars in the wind even if they don't have wings. i want to ride a motorcycle, fly a plane, maybe it'd last forever if we died in motion with a smile on our faces; not a victim to black guns.

walking down the streets i felt so lonely i bought the Nirvana compilation and something by Morrissey. i might get a job at the record shop later this year.

i watched BBC for over an hour. it's all grey outside.

in my home, books rearrange themselves from time to time, and new volumes appear constantly. today, 'Ireland: Past and Present' took its place between Salvador Dali and Abnormal Psychology. funny, i don't recall owning a book like that.

vintage porn is quite interesting.

"I find the most romantic thing ever is simply waking up next to someone, I think it's the most beautiful thing in the world."

that's what i think, too.

some rotten people are blasting tasteless techno music outside. flu is beyond bad; am beginning to go against vonnegut (i.e. believe i am a loser who needs a haircut because i am a loser who needs a haircut). war begins on thursday. enough said.

flu is getting worse. my voice is reduced to a low growl, and when i sing it wobbles like the last guitar string does sometimes. i miss the phone ringing.

ever wanted to commit glamorous murder?

sometimes, the best thing to do is on a Sunday night is listen to swing and eat apples.

it's been a dreary weekend, characterised by uninspiring but enlightening flag-selling and lots of flu. i've spent most of my time in bed and lamp-lit, reading and sleeping alternately. i have had recurring dreams involving girls and vacuums and trying jeans on.

apart from that, i went to an exhibition on universities which had a room called 'Exhibitor's Lounge'. i'm most drawn to the Universities of Glasgow (B average) and Edinburgh (lots of As, i think).

Radiohead's My Iron Lung EP is absolutely brilliant, especially The Trickster. i realise i don't ever want to grow up; if not for the fucked up education system i'd definitely enjoy being part of the dissolute youth.

i want to sleep out in the open and look at stars till they fall onto me and burn me golden.

my back and arse hurt, though not for any good or bad reasons.

i wish i could take a knife to the shitloads of homework i have and disregard all war. take a cycle around town, go to the art museum for paintings and people, write a song. something like that.

check this out.

my own hands are starting to scare me. what if they should suddenly go into a psychotic spasm?

does America have the One Ring, or what?

last night i dreamt i lived in a box. there was a little square window and everything was symmetrical except for me. she was watching television, so i made some coffee for her. if i had the chance i'd paint up a white room full of lilies and linen and serve her breakfast in bed and give her wings made out of soft towels.

heather gave me a beautiful letter to read and i keep taking it out of my wallet, wondering whether we're just jumping on a trampoline.

it's a holiday next week and friday had bloody well be one, too. forget the test!

let's make instant pleasure our new anthem.

a few conclusions i have made via Outward Bound School:

1. my greatness weakness is my obsessive fear of my weaknesses.
2. i never want to see or row a kayak again. fuck, it was nine hours.
3. i don't tan, i just burn badly.

i am in love. the contours of her palm, subaru caps, and grapes.

to my great surprise, the word "implosion" actually exists. whoa.

Outward Bound School for the whole of next week. i will muster up all my feral instincts so i'll enjoy not taking a bath, eating ash, and stumbling through wilderness. sounds cool to me. i'm now attempting to abuse all my privileges as a Hedonist.

i need a blue moon.