Turbo.

I said this to Mary, because it is true, and I forgot - if ever one is depressed, and is unhappy with said depression (some people love it you know), make a tune. A complete thing, with a start and an end. It can be someone else's tune, and you can make your own version. And you will feel like a God. As I did, earlier, when this thing I have done started to come together. There is nothing on earth like it. Nothing I know, anyway. That I can do this now, this weird execution, makes it all OK - nay, beautiful. And I know it is beautiful - but sometimes it takes bowel rupturing kick drums to make fools such as I take note. So make a song. Or a book, or a play, or nice rock, or a spoon, or a valley. Make love. Whatever you like. But take time out to make something with that that you are.

I am going to bed now, in order that I might wake up early and finish my thing. So that will be my wittering for the day. Look at this - a new month. A clean slate. No mile of ugly text, no horror. Just a blank, some might say virtual, I would argue real, canvas. Let us hope it fills with something Sweeter, and of more use, than Shit.