there was absolutely no point to this

Bubbles in the can on my right. The sexy red sound of addiction.

I'm stuck on coke.

Beats and rhymes and things from speakers.

Typing and less typing, the keyboard in front of me.

Shampoo in my hair.

Cigarettes on my fingers, Mayfair, like my grandfather smoked before he died. I like to crumble the ends in my finger, flick the tobacco out and peel back the filter paper. The smell will stay on my hands for hours, it makes me want suck on my fingertips because I can't bury my face in his chair anymore.

The deodorant I borrowed off Kate three months ago and never gave back.

Clouds outside.

I've spent the day playing with pictures, trying to find a headshot for a website. I've blogged some of my favourites, but still haven't found one of me I like enough. I want to write for a website, but I need something pouty and black and white for their homepage. Pouty. Hm...

I get halfway through these blogs and lose track, utterly.

I taste chewing gum, fags again, it's really filthy, but Toby's just given up so I must be restoring some kind of cosmic balance. Billy tells me I smoke like a drama student and tries to correct me. Sam tells me my breath smells. They're all completely right, particularly Toby, who is sensible in this.

Between Sam, Cat and Est, I can now say several things in French, such as 'fuck the police', 'do it now', 'nothing is going well', 'hate breeds hate', 'hell is other people'... The total of French films I've watched now stands at two - La Vie Revee Des Anges, which was ok, but didn't have English subtitles, and La Haine, which was stunning, and not just because it had English subtitles.

Huber in La Haine (The Hatred) says that it's not how you fall, it's how you land. Learning is fun.

It's not that I have nothing to say, so much as I don't know how to start. I'm back to that place, searching for the ultimate adjective to describe what the hell I feel.

I get to see the psychiatrist one more time before I'm officially given the ok. What the 'ok' is, I'm not entirely sure, but I don't find it very reassuring.

Heard about the guy who fell off a skyscraper? On his way down past each floor, he kept saying to reassure himself: So far so good... so far so good... so far so good. How you fall doesn't matter. It's how you land.

Jusqu'ici tout va bien; so far so good.