My blood is cold. This morning I woke up in a pile of vomit and my trousers are soaked with my own soil (I hope it's mine). I have shadowy recollections of the preceding nights endeavor, flashes of highs, snippets of tits, too much booze to recount and a black eye filled with more resentment than I can shake a stick at. I see a heart shaped hole in the atmosphere of my own head, oozing self deprecation, I think I may possibly be bleeding internally, I plucked myself out of the gutter to find that my feeling of the world and everything in it has shifted. Not a complete and total overhaul has occurred, it's just a slight change in the way my brain is firing. I dusted myself off and set out on foot with the clothes on my back, and a few pieces of shrapnel in my pocket. I got onto a train where I met a new friend that taught me the importance of really understanding a complex dissimulation routine, and the importance of being earnest through it all. I then boarded a ship bound for our America, gasped for air in the clutches of the New York City underground and finally, I am headed out west in search of something I can't quite explain.
The questions I have circling around upstairs in the vortex of my brain will go unanswered if I don't search diligently for the key note to each and every one of them. Please wait for me. I have so many things I want to say. In the meantime I'll wait for the universe to unravel in my skull as I write these thoughts out one by bloody one.
*Found in a worn out notebook on the back of a greyhound bus traveling from El Paso TX to Los Angeles CA. This was the last entry.
Link 1: http://myspace.com/williamcontrol