Wednesday, 24 September 2008
Martin 'let it bleed' Creed ringing his division bell, summoning this imp from his hot little hovel to impishly glare at his workforce, full of hatred today, and weary as fuck. Too dried up and angry from Miller the last few days, on the bus, positively seething as Miller did at the great forward trudging bustle of life - snorting the ferment of disillusion. Feeling now as I did some seventeen years ago; equally as baffled and angry. More lines on the chops though. Fuck awful music, dying to be homeward bound to scrape the names of those I despise on the stone walls then directly, and without ceremony, to tell them directly to their faces 'vous etes tres mauvaille traville ici' (misquote of Mobutu Sese Sako).