Sunday. March 26. 2006. 4:40 AM

Sometimes when I stop and think about what a fucking cock-up I've made of myself, the foolish assumptions I've made, the hubris I've fallen prey to, the oceans of mud and piss and blood I've dragged myself through to no end- oh, it's appalling. When I look around and the world o' men and the greed 'n' waste and suffering and how we're repayed for our highest callings with a fuckin' pine box- oh, it's a dragola. Sometimes when I'm literally doubled over at the excruciatory cramping that results from th' SHAME AND HUMILIATION AND SHEER SELF-CONTEMPT AND SADNESS AND WASTE AND ALL TH' CRAP THAT WILL NEVER BE, NEVER BE, NEVER BE- oh, my droogies it's a bad, bad trip indeed. One of those trips where everybody's six-four and wearin' aviator glasses and staring at you. Urgh.

And when at length I unbind myself from the muscle spasms and bloating and irritability brought on by nothinghood and how jackfuck happens when you wish on a star, and I summon the courage to face myself in the mirror, well, at least there's this- at least there's that 18-year old me starin' back, his face unlined and his bearing straight, unbent by th' inevitable.

And he's saying you fucking asshole. Oh, you fucking Willy Lomax.