everything feels beautiful and piquant....a benign sort of melancholy...a beautiful bittersweet...my stomach is flying up and down with all of life's excitements...a bouyancy in my chest....a lightness in my legs....life feels like one of those drunken dreams you get after you've just got a snog and babies by pulp is still ringing in the walls....and i could sit down and write my masterpiece or shout down the howling wind or crawl on my hands and knees to the house of the girl that i fancy and tell her that i lo....

...no......no......a wank. this excess energy should really be used on a hand jive.

...shoot out my breeze and then let the inevitable hollowness wrap around my spirit....legs like lead weights...stomach like a stone.

g'night, god bless.