..dear reader..

She stayed over last night. In the morning I had a lot of hetro sex dreams, wandering about looking for a man to have sex with, I'm not sure if I found someone. During the day I have had increasing memories of having sex with my mother. I call them memories they are more like impressions of memories. Its not like I can say they are new but its been a while since they have felt so real. The way she touched me and rubbed against me gave me much more physical pleasure than abuse from my dad or men. It's not like I can see her face in the memories, maybe it wasn't her, maybe I'm just putting these feelings onto her because I have rarely felt, very close to her. Even when I was little. What I can remember clearly that amongst the carnage of 2001 I was having sezuires, flashbacks, lots of memories that I was reliving and accepting as part of my past. Until one day she came over and I couldn't do it anymore. I remember standing on the stairs in my flat in Aberd...

It's just my late teens and early twenties I want back, not to see him again. It's this latest virus thats making me feel ultra depressed, its not love sickness. His wife was on the wrong list long before she met him and he walked straight into it. He was always blind to the amount of genuine conspiries behind our life 'choices'. Listen to me, no wonder people think I'm deluded. In Glasgow I knew he was in trouble outside, the back of a car, a group of Fife men, one with a video camera. I was standing at the bar, trying to be indifferent, trying to be what I had to be if I was to become anything in that city. I couldn't do it. I put my drink down and ran out there to put the video camera to its best use as far as I'm concerned, as a blunt instrument. The violence is always a blurr afterwards when its me thats doing it, but during it time slows and I feel like a force of nature. After he'd pulled his trousers back up we sat on the street with ou...