Never Too Late!

Never Too Late!
any resemblance to anyone real or imaginary is mere bad luck
we are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are trying to get up


i woke up from a strange dream. it was about 8pm, i was still sitting outside the bar holding a drink and the japanese girl had gone. the sun set blood red in the smoke.

other people.

i can't write about anything any more in case someone mistakes it for fact.

but i felt like writing about the essential rightness of the evening and the perfection of the door squeaking as it moved once with the breeze, later, when i was sitting alone staring at the sky.


you can't afford to lose it now, great things are at stake. spread disinformation. think. think. they're almost on to you.

i'm so paranoid i will call up and change the meeting place at the last moment, in case they've set something up... i mean, why choose that bar with the big fucking windows? who is watching through a 300mm lens? will they be wired?

jesus fuck.

someone tell me it's my own twisted psychopathology.