I never get depressed. Depression is for the masses. The boring and stupid masses. The ill coloured overweight ignorant masses. The lying hypocrite self loathing arrogant motherfucking masses.

When it comes to it though I do get sad.

yep. it feels that all I gotta do is come at peace with myself. feels like shit. I’ve been at peace with myself before and I sucked. it’s the thrill, the searching for not the drinking fucking Cristal on the top of the world which is most likely the terrace of some fucking atrocity the Arabs built just to prove that their Cadillacs were custom fitted with cocaine sprinklers.

”The saddest day of your life isn’t when you decide to sell out. The saddest day of your life is when you decide to sell out and nobody wants to buy”. – Norman Spinrad



there’s this tea grown on the foothills of the himalayan in darjeeling region, india. it is not a shit assam or an annoyingly mediocre ceylon because it is actually the chinese camelia sinensis which just happened to adjust there. great motherfucker. pour water at 80 degrees. leave the infuser in the teapot for at least 5 minutes then pour in 300 ml mugs. my favourite mug has a gingerbread man on it. works well with brandy de jerez. taste it like wine, let it embrace your palate have a sip of brandy, lick your lips, that’s it baby, now have another mouthful of darjeeling unlimited, suck it, dip your tongue in it, swallow, close your eyes


this very exquisite Jun ware wine cup. all Jun ware surviving items are delightful in so many ways but this wine cup in particular is so much more as it is a wine cup which i reckon could only mean that the chinese people used to drink wine from such cups, maybe not so fancy-shoreditch-artsy, more like red earthenware terracotta shit anyway, drinking wine out of wine cups is definitely cool as it shifts the pattern of western nonchalance – arrogance towards a nurturing cupping and sipping the nectar of the gods soulful approach.


blam blam blam black betty

wham wham oyster jam sea horse clam

you re all boring with a capital BORING! well done assholes, all grown up and shit

and a merry special berry christmas to you all


a flip of the spliff

when there’s nothing to worry about there’s gotta be something to worry about. what sleeps inside what sleeps inside you, boy? the door that leads towards another door that opens down the corridor to somewhere.

how does it feel when it’s raging down there? do your smiles make it laugh? i wanna fuck you deep down there in the asshole of your deepest vein, how many times then will my sleeper jeez?

ninja slick

like Moby Dick

black strobe italian fireflies


poem 1

we live in a house with some brasilian chick who’s under investigation for gbh or some shit. victor’s setting up escort services in Angel with his rider mate andtwo 50 year old polish fuck ups. i’m xmas shopping for eric clapton and his wife leila something. my girlfriend has just moved alongside Thames and she doesn’t drink her tea by the river. i mean what the fuck?

i was careful, that s why i m

only bleeding from the skin

building a relationship

from bottom up

and so on




silva jaguar

there’s a psychotherapist computer named eliza or something who asks the same shitty questions you’re too uncomfortable asking yourself and the magic of this whole shit is that yeah! you answer back, it’s the century of the avatar, you fuck yourself every time she chokes on your methamphetamine crazed cock of yours, not huge, true, but more than enough to get the job done. it’s all in the head she says. so where did the pheromones stop talking, i wonder.

silva jaguar. that’s what Toby texted me, Toby’s  Jason the Second, it’s like a legacy carefully nurtured and passed along with the top-up sim card storing phone numbers of all the junkies out there – East London foreva! – and then it struck me: foreva is silva, the guy and his car, an X type – still a jaguar, silver, waiting for me on the other side of the East India station and I try to remember the last time I met Jason and whether it was on lake side or shop side.I wonder if this illiteracy is the driving force of how languages evolve. The new guy.

few minutes later I fly

my baby’s got an atom bomb twenty two megaton

yeah. it only takes a second to have it all figured out, innit?

slackline # London







we got locked in the park

at night

luckily enough, I had my instant fire with me

so we feasted with the pigeons we force fed the day before


instant fire just add water

instant fear just add weather

instant wear just add feather


yeah. I guess it’s about not wasting time. that’s either saving time in hope of increasing interest rates on deposits and bonds and shit or just using it to its full extent erratically, A-9 suited style, shades on, broken teeth squeezing barely burning straight cuts, yeah, straight cuts, it’s more than one, it’s two ’cause that’s how wild it can get

I guess it’s about not wasting time. and food. I haven’t eaten in 48 hours. had some beers, some shit sauv blanc yeah? blame it on me and some sailor jerry with shit coke. fruits. some fruits. nectarines and seedless grapes. roommate Vic keeps away from seedless fruits. I guess I’ll have to either earn more to afford better fruits or grow them myself. I guess it’s about not wasting time.