Are you from somewhere? Anywhere?
I have a strange hazy memory of arriving in London in the hot June of 2000, and specifically remember telling people I'd be around, well, for a couple of weeks.
Eight years pass quickly. Shockingly so. With nothing to show for it. Well, an almost-profession, which is good for paying the bar bills. And all the other stuff. You probably know, anyway.
And really, I was never for the cold and protestant north. Never I was. And what I do for money, honey? I can do it anywhere, whatever it is. Putting words together. But it so saddens me I have stopped writing for the pleasure of it (was there ever such?), or doing it for the need to put it out, what was inside, somehow.
Look, maybe I will keep writing here. Or point you to somewhere else interesting on the web.
It will all add up to something, one day.
One day.
ONE DAY I WILL KNOW WHAT THAT GODDAM MADNESS SCRATCHING ALWAYS AT THE EDGE OF MY MIND IS, AND CAST IT OUT WITH THE GODDAMN DEMONS!
Sale, demonios!
Y... ¿que mas? Mejor aqui, mejor aqui, sin duda, ninguna puta duda. But I have to remember, I have to remember, remember. something.
