Dear Diary

Looking through some old boxes in the cellar, I came across an old notebook that I had used as a diary, come ideas sketch pad throughout my travels around this island, Earth. I must have gone through one of my "Year Zero" phases at some stage, as there are only two entries left in it, the rest obviously having been dispatched to various waste bins around the globe. Only one of the remaining items is a complete piece, the other being two lines for a song which never made it out of the starting blocks. So, here below, in all it's glory, are my random thoughts and observations made during a trip to New York, Circa 2000, and will give you a glimpse of exactly where my head was at, back then (Man! ~ Counter Culture Ed.).

"There are times when you realise this was not meant to be your day. The street you walk down singles you out as clearly as if you had a neon sign on your head saying "I do not live here, but, I am desperately trying to blend into the background".


"On West 18th Street, a construction worker is wearing exactly the same T-shirt as you. The same T-shirt that you bought last year and thought that you looked so cool in. These are warnings. These are signs that you no longer exude the coolness that comes so naturally, even automatically, with youth. Old passport photos are like sharp sticks prodding your, now plump, body, reminding you that the chances of ever looking that good again are very slim, indeed".


"There are days when you look around and there is not a single person nearby who knows anything about you".

"Sitting outside the Dakota building, thinking about Lennon and singing "In my Life" in your head. A stranger asks to borrow your pen and you feel the moment slip away, almost as if you had never even heard of four lads who shook the world. Then, you are swallowed up in the ceaseless throng of traffic and honking cabs and cold, emotionless faces behind dirty windscreens". Sanitation" reads the sign on the truck, but, you can't help feeling that a little "Salvation" wouldn't go amiss here?"


"The pretty girl on the mobile phone has a smile that can surely travel through the airwaves and, just for a second, you wish that it was you on the other end of the line. Happiness is a Warm Phone".


Obviously, my old pal, low self esteem, was along for ride on that trip. Going forward, the little shit can book his own damn flight...