07/01 Direct Link
So you're struggling onwards, limping forwards, keeping on writing even after you thought you would stop.


You're footsteps fog up dust, more and more as you worm forwards, until the clogging and scratching is unbearable and you end up retching on the floor, words spilling out of your mouth.


Even as you pick yourself up, and try to scrape the encrusted paragraphs off your clothes you know you are too weak to go much further. But still you struggle on. Searching for a relief that is not to be found in this life.


Because you are human.
07/02 Direct Link
I have an urge to steal toothpicks.

Every so often, a voice in my head tells me to 'burn the world'.

I believe in God in an absent minded way.

I'm not completely sure that I'm in full control of my mind.

I like reading poetry.

I hate ice-breakers.

Fundamentalist atheists annoy me as much as fundamentalist theists.

I'm scared of being lost in the masses.

I never want to work.

I want to travel to lesser known places.

I want to learn languages.

I think I'm pathetic, then think it's pathetic to think I'm pathetic.

I never sleep.
07/03 Direct Link

His face was rather rat-like. Thinning towards the nose, sharp and angular. An offensively pink nose. Hair that seemed more inclined to grease than to gloss.

Even his movements were like a rat. Short and knife-like. Stopping every so often, as if expecting a trap.

Just like tha rat, most people tended to avoid him. Some medieval fear of disease pushing them from his company.

He didn't mind. He would just smile as people hurried past.

Mainly, they never noticed him. He was very quiet, with light footsteps. He kept his rat-trap shut.

A dirty rat.
07/04 Direct Link
The happiness and smiles seem forced, to the point that you are sure something is about to rupture.

And look at that smile. It looks like a smile should, but lacks the essential warmth. Like biting into a cake and realising there is no middle.

Those hand gestures. We've seen them before. The roll of the eyes is familiar.

He's stolen those movements. We're sure of it.

Did you hear that laugh? Empty. Empty vases ring the loudest. That was one of the loudest laughes I have ever heard.

What do you think? He's not there?

No. He isn't.
07/05 Direct Link
I think I'll dedicate this entry to you. As you seem to be the only person who ever reads these.

It was nice talking to you. It was not a conversation that I had previously planned in my head.

Thank you for listening. Thank you for the silences. They were not awkward. Just...comfortable. A moment where you could stop and think.

I hope you liked the song. It might have sounded better on a piano with a clearer tone.

I hope you would want to keep me in your circle of friends.

I am happy. I hope you are.
07/06 Direct Link
This little shape-shifter, hiding behind his smile and laugh and thoughts and the way he talks.

Less than human. People see and observe and read and wonder why he simply cannot just be himself.

They think he puts on a show and says what they want to hear, and feels the way they want him to feel. They think he is not, and never will be, his own person.

This little shape-shifter smiles sadly to himself, watching the truth rolling slowly through his mind.

He does not show his real self because there is nothing to show.
07/07 Direct Link

I decided to sell my soul to the devil. He likes that sort of thing.

I phoned hell, and was put on hold for over two hours. Two hours of Lady Gaga clanging down the phone. Hell indeed.

Eventually, I was allowed to talk to the devil.

'Hello, devil.'

'Hello David.'

'I would like to sell my soul.'

'And what would you like in return?'

'I would like to be happy.'

'I don't think I can do that.'

'I only mean superficially.'

'Oh! Well in that case, that's fine. I'lll come up tomorrow with the contract.'

'Ok. See you then.'

07/08 Direct Link
Leave me alone.

You torment me with your words. You claw at my mind and laugh as the blood runs willingly through your fingers.

You scream at me. You force my fears down my throat until I choke, gasping for a breath that will never come.

Let my soul be. It's suffered enough.

Please, stop following me. Please.

At night, you are there. Whispering my isolation.

You taunt me with fallicies. You feed me dreams that are lighter than fingers that steal. You shake my foundations. You tear me down to rubble.

Imagination. Please. Let me be.

Let me be.
07/09 Direct Link
The devil came up with the paperwork. I immediatly cut my arm and reached for a pen with which to sign my name.

'Do you not want to read the small print?' The devil asked.

'Not really. You're the devil. Even if there was no small print, I'd still be cast down to hell. It seems prudish to take precautions now. I've read Dr. Faustus.'

'Ah, Faustus. A treasured possesion. So what are you doing it?'

'Do you care?'

'I find people interesting.'

'I told you, I want to be happy.'

'You're lying.'

'I'm not.'

'You are. I should know.'
07/10 Direct Link
Less than two months until I become a legal adult.

I can pay more for things and decide how the country is run.

It makes me want to cry. Lots of things make me want to cry.

I think I've finally entered the teenage existentialist crisis. It took me long enough.

Who am I?

Do I hide? And what do I hide?

What is it I actually believe? Will I ever find love? Am I destined to end up alone? 

Nearly an adult. At least that means I can get drunk and forget about my worries. Except I don't drink.
07/11 Direct Link
'I think that you want pain.' The devil continued.

'That's rediculous. I'm asking you for happiness.'

'Exactly. You're asking the devil for happiness. You know that whatever I give you in mortality will not last. I'll make it so that you become more miserable. When I finally have you're soul, you'll be dragged down to hell.'

'I've read the 'Inferno'.'

'So you know that pain that awaits you.'

'I'm not a masochist.'

'No, you're not. But you think you deserve pain.'

'Why would I think that?'

'Because you did something wrong. You're looking for punishment. An elaborate form of suicide.'
07/12 Direct Link
The word just flew out of my mouth.

It had been waiting there, throughout all the fustrations. Lurking, waiting for its chance to grow those hideous, bat-like wings and fly free.

When it came out of my mouth, I was that the word was agressively purple, with hundreds of needle black eyes that blinked out of sequence.

It emitted a high-pitched scream as it climbed towards the rafters and settled there, screaching at anyone who came near it.

I'm not sure when it will leave. I hope it's soon.

I need to be more careful with my words.
07/13 Direct Link
'I always assumed that if I wanted to commit suicide, it would be because I wanted to remove all feeling.'

The devil paused.

'Fine. Not suicide. You just want to suffer. You don't think that you deserve to be happy, so you are commiting yourself to an eternity of pain.'

I said nothing.

'Why?' He asked.

I just dipped a pencil in my blood and wrote my name on the contract.

'Why should you care?' I asked.

'I don't. But people interest me.'

With that, he and the contract vanished in a theatrical puff of smoke.

Ever the showman.  
07/14 Direct Link
'You know, when I first met you, I was really shy of coming up to you because I thought you were really nice and smart and stuff. That's why I didn't talk to you much at the start of the year.'

'Thank you. That's really kind. I must admit, I was shy of coming up to you. But that was because I was...well...shy. And you were a female.'

'But then I realised that actually you're not that smart and you're pretty self-centered and mean. So I find it easier to talk to you now.'



Thank you.
07/15 Direct Link
You were living there, the most comfortable people in the world.

Noses touching and teeth on display as you smiled at each other, looking at each other and laughing. Giggling like two small children caught in the act.

Playing with hair and hands entwined and bodies closer, ever closer. Like braided hair.

You two were the most beautiful people in the room. I loved watching you in wonder and aspiration. You didn't realise. You had other eyes to entertain you. Another smile to create. Another hand to touch.

Still. I had my Shakespeare. That should provide some comfort. Shouldn't it?
07/16 Direct Link
When people choose to describe themselves, I'm surpirsed by how many say that they 'dance in the rain'.

I always wondered how many times they have actually danced in the rain. Or, like the rest of us, do they lower their heads and walk faster in an attempt to escape it?

Today, I saw someone dance in the rain.

We were playing on the bandstand. It was raining. The band outnumbered the crowd. Right in front of us, a small boy was dancing in the rain to the music.

I couldn't stop smiling. It made it difficult to play.
07/17 Direct Link
So, for a while, I was superifically happy.

I was given a beautiful wife. She had the complection and personality of a Russian Doll. Too smooth and cold to touch.

I was given riches. Then, I was surrounded by people who wanted to take those riches off me in some way.

I possesed all the knowledge in the world, and quickly became bored of all conversation and objects of leisure. I could not read, as I found the books unimaginative and obvious.

I had everything that other people wish for. A happiness only the devil could provide. Provide he did.
07/18 Direct Link
I had my very last piano lesson today.

For ten years, I have sat in the same stool with the same piano playing different music.

I liked that piano. It was electric and had nice voices.

I remeber going through the grades. I remember telling him that I had failed to practice because I was too busy. I remember sight-reading and scales. Oh, the sight-reading and scales...

The jazz years were the best. Improvising and blues scales and chords and flattened sevens and diminshed and bass lines.

Goodbye, piano man. I will miss our playing. And your piano.
07/19 Direct Link
Now I am the piano man.

I taught my first piano lesson today. I have now developed a greater empathy for my piano teacher.

I would like to apologise for all the times I failed to listen to. All the times I wriggled on my chair. All the times I was disparing of the pieces you made my play. All the times I failed to practice. All the times I tried to stall to prevent you seeing how bad I was.

I will try to be a better teacher. I will.

I will try to be a better piano man.
07/20 Direct Link

Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again. 

07/21 Direct Link
So I lived a fallacy. For six months, I deluded myself that I was happy. I willfully ignored the voices in my head that explained that it could not last.

Then the devil came for my soul. He knocked on my door, politely, and I allowed him to enter.

'It's time for me to take your soul.'

'I thought that I had longer.'

'Everybody thinks that have longer.'

With that, he reached into a briefcase and pulled out what seemed to be a fishing rod, old paper pale and just as fragile. It glowed and hummed in a low tone.
07/22 Direct Link

- I'm trapped in a snake pit. The only way things could get worse would be if Nick Clegg turned up.

- Some people say that Ed Milliband is completely forgettable, but I...I...what was I saying? I honestly can't remember.

- If there is one politician who knows about the struggles of the lower-middle class it's David Cameron.

- If there is one politicain who knows what they are doing, I would be very surprised indeed.

- I could never vote for a part with the letter 'a' in its name.

- You can't beat a politician. 'Shame, really.
07/23 Direct Link

(aka, I went to Cromer and caught crabs)

The holiday did not start off well. I showed some of the locals my phone, at which point they accused me of witchcraft and tied me to a stake where they planned to burn me.

Fortunately, I managed to convice them that I was God. They then started to worship me and built me a monument out of crab meat.

Unfortunately, the meat was attacked by seagulls, which seemed to disprove my divinity.

To cheer myself up, I brought myself a ukulele. That made me happy.
07/24 Direct Link
The devil drew back the rod, and cast it straight into my chest.

Rather than the hook being deflected, it flew into my flesh and seemed to get trapped in my ribs.

I felt no pain. I was rather surprised at that. So was the devil.

He shifted the rod in his hands, licked his lips, and held on tight. After an hour, he gave a dissatisfied grunt.

'It's not working.'

'What isn't?'

'This. It should catch your soul.'

'So why isn't it?'

'Well, my only guess is that you don't have a soul.'

'How can I not have one?'
07/25 Direct Link

Look at these hands.

Feminine hands. Soft and unwilling. Piano hands, with long fingernails. Swallow like hands, flying when trying to make a point.

I've seen better hands. Men hands. Hands that are made from wood, gnarled and full of knots. Rough hands that could lift a horse, and probably have. Hands that could crush things and make things. Hands that could survive.

If I left my hands in the cold, they would shrivel and die. These hands cannot make anything of material worth. They can only tap away, trying to keep up with the other hands. Trying and failing.

07/26 Direct Link
'You do realise,' the devil said 'That this is rather annoying for me.'

'I can see that.'

'We made a pact. You signed. I gave you the happiness. Now, it seems that you cannot keep up your end of the bargain.'

'I am sorry, but I'm not sure what I can do.'

The devil paused.

'I suppose there is nothing you can do.'

'So what do I do now?'

'I don't know. I honestly don't. Which is a rather strange sensation for me.'

'Sorry to have caused you pain.'

The devil laughed.

'Thank you. I've never had sympathy from someone.'
07/27 Direct Link
America seems insistant on destroying the world.

If it's not a war (and it generally is a war) it's wreaking the world economy by refusing to compromise.

Nevertheless, us Europeans are helping the process along. Intervening where there is oil, turning away from the other nations that are fighting opressive autocratic rulers.

And Greece.


It does make the life of a hermit look attractive. No monetary worries, no need to pay attention to politics, friendly villiage people coming to give you rice and ask for advice.

I couldn't be a hermit. I like complaining and company too much.
07/28 Direct Link
The devil went, once again in a puff of smoke.

I wasn't quite sure how I felt about not having a soul. I suppose I should have felt sad. Possibly angry.

I couldn't. I just felt...absolutely nothing.

I ran my hand over my face. Then over my chest. Finally, I reached down and felt my legs.

Everything seemed solid. Everything worked and felt real.

That, I thought, was all that really matters. I have a working body and an active mind. I use these all the time. When was the last time I ever needed to use my soul?
07/29 Direct Link
It's going.

This wild animal that tore it's way through my body. With it's bruise purple fur and pin sharp claws.

This animal is retreating. It's blunting. It's control over me is diminishing. The fiery breath is no longer able to work it's way through my skin and set it ablaze.

It has been hunted to almost extinction. Flushed out of my system. Beaten.

It has almost gone. It sometimes makes it's presence felt, but not often. Not in a powerful way.

This wild animal is dying. I will laugh over it's rotting corpse. I will dance on it's grave.
07/30 Direct Link
Atlas was thinking. He had a lot of time to think.

The thoughts started off as small eggs, sitting perfectly still. Then there was slight movement. The shells cracked with confidence and an idea emerged. It struggled towards the sunlight.

Over time it grew, developed wings and tried flying. It failed, but the idea kept trying and eventually prevailed.

It flew towards the sunlight and sang, desperate to be heard, wanting to be heard and recognised.

Atlas listened to this idea. He considered the idea, and thought that it was a rather good one.

Atlas shrugged and dropped the world. 
07/31 Direct Link
Crawling through the dust, eyes stinging with the small words that work their way into every crack and crevase.


You look upwards, panting. Through the mist of misued words and hateful sentences you glimps the beginnings of something new.


You realise there does not have to be a reason. To survive is reason enough. These words that held you captive for so long, which stirred up the dust to choke you, which forced you to be ill are no longer important.


You have realised that they are just words. They only have the meaning you give them.