Once, twice and thrice on the cock!

So I just noticed the extent of the stuff that was deleted from here. Loads! Shit! There was all that stuff about Maryland, where I allowed myself to be pulled along behind a rowboat for a mile and a half and was attacked by a fleet of jellyfish, who bit me thrice on the cock - once on the helmet, once on the shaft, once where the helmet meets the shaft. And all sorts of other stuff. Oh well. I always said these silly online things were kind of pointless, because they don't really exist.

Let me tell you this - I am a happy man today, and I love New York. I fucking do. Last night I had the best night I've had for weeks - I wandered the streets alone for many hours, in quiet contemplation, then I went to the cinema and saw Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind, which nearly made me cry. I left the cinema at 1 or so, and wandered some more, pondering the fact that, mostly, I only ever cry at the movies. And how I wanted to cry. I really did. But Eternal Sunshine hadn't quite got there. I was on the brink... and it as then that, waiting for a crippled man to flash up and let me cross, I accidentally stabbed my eyeball with the velcro on the sleeve of the jacket I was wearing. It was a big plastic jacket, belonging to Spiky. The tears refused to subside for a long time.

I was like, Ah ha!

So then I went back to the apartment, almost empty now, save for that lingering catshit smell, and that lingering cat. A note informed me that everybody had gone to the Tribecka, a posh ol' hotel a friend of Amy and Phil's runs or something. They'd been on about trying to blag a room there, to escape the cat shit. However, the tone of the note was not an inviting one, so I did not go. Instead, I wandered the streets some more, and ended up sat on a fire hydrant at the bottom of Orchard, where it meets Houston, and I so sat there, and I watched the world, and I wrote raps, of sadness, anger, lonliness, confusion... and as I did this, and the raps flew from my wet brain onto the paper, so the people around me did fill that wet brain with wonderment, and so the tone of the raps did elevate, and within an hour or so I had pages and pages of CLASSIC RAPS!

I also met a whole bunch of really cool people sat on that hydrant. Just sat there, outside this American Apparel store. Man, I really, really love this city. I have, being honest, been feeling very alone up in Woodstock. Alone, frustrated, trapped. Yadda yadda. Maybe if I could drive... but halfway up a mountain in a leaky ol' house full of porn and spiders did not, in the end, feel like home.

This home thing... I figure, I'm home. Home is wherever I am. As long as I feel comfortable in me, that's enough. And for that, I guess I need a certain ammount of humanity, and inspiration about me. New York is so alive. Up there in the mountains... it is a different thing. I guess I'm not ready to retire just yet.