Not Waving But Drowning

I AM DROWNING IN DEPRESSION. I feel it pressing on me like the cold earth on my coffin. Not sleeping; waking at five a.m. like a block of ice and craving heroin (the ultimate body-warmer; junkie's equivalent to an early-morning cup of tea)... so I drink methadone instead, turn on the fan heater that my landlord's too stingy to give permission for me to use (citing "fire hazard")... I stick my head under the sheets and hopefully go back to sleep. I don't actually possess any tea right now TO drink "of" a morning, so that particular remedy shall have to wait till another day ... (next week) when I've funds enough and have not been hitting up "B" in the bushes as wire foxes come terrierorizing past...

My Paris Dream has degenerated into a nighmare of the most degraded kind. Dreaming I was on the train, only it's open top and rollercoastering throughout a large house (as you do in dreams). This house is full of what the French would call "Anglo-Saxons" (that is Brits, Yanks and Aussies: ie Anglophones), all of whom are junkies. Dirt is everywhere. Barely there's a space for any more sleeping bags. And I'm freezing cold, friendless and alienated in this foreign town. Even more rootless than I am over here. Perhaps it's a warning: the grass is darker...

I had a look in at my trotters this afternoon. Great activities have been taking place, with Bashful taking a lead in the newspaper-tearing (home-made bedding: they far prefer making their own to being lumbered with the so-called "luxury" shop-bought cottonwool type), and running from one bedroom to another (they've at least four sleeping places) self-importantly, scraps of the Sun newspaper hanging from her tubby chops.

I've come up with some roborovski songs. Not very original or brilliant, I'm afraid, but this is what I coo to poor long-suffering Itchy on occasion. And no I do not deny I may well be clinically insane...::~~

BABY ITCHY'S TROTTING
Baby Itchy's trotting!
Trotting!
Trotting!
Baby Itchy's trotting!
And she's covered in fur!

...THE TINIEST ONE!
Of all the Little Trotters you're the Tiniest One!
Tiniest One!
Tiniest One!
Of all the Little Trotters you're the Tiniest One:
Baby Itchy's trotting into town!

TROTTING ROUND THE MOUNTAIN
She'll be trotting round the mountain when she trots;
She'll be trotting round the mountain when she trots;
She'll be trotting round the mountain;
Trotting round the mountain
And Bashful's blind and Spherical's covered in fur!

(Well I never did claim to be Shakespeare...)

SONG OF THE DAY:
ELTON JOHN; SACRIFICE
Superman Smallville Vid...



SONG II
ELTON JOHN FT. BLUE
SORRY SEEMS TO BE THE HARDEST WORD

This song got really slagged off on its rerelease a couple of years ago... but I thought it was really good. The melancholy tune, not to mention the words: rhyming "word" with "absurd": classic!



Commemorating the shock death of Diana, Princess of Wales that dreadful week at the end of summer 1997...