April 21st, 2002. - 2:34 a.m.

One should always listen to the hallucinations.

Should stop pretending to be youth; simply because one looks the part, does not mean much.

The only question of the moment: What the fuck?

And really, an answer is simply too much to muster.

Meh. Meh!

Have no idea what this is. Unimpressed. Orphaned. A fork digging into the back of hand. Ugliness permeates. An utter disappearance of beauty; is so romantic.

"Then stop going out, you simpleton," cackles the ostrich, bobbing its ridiculous head.

"But..." stammers the pale girl in her faded party dress and lace gloves.

"Remember that old fable about the prefect who loved dragons," concludes a wizened voice.

"Yes of course, one must always bemoan what one wished for without clear thought," sighs the pale girl, a flash of blue satin around the waist.

But there was clear thought. Certain of it. Just now, a wish made forty five or less years ago, seems to have rotted through, and holds no water.

The ostrich shakes with laughter.

"Time has no relevance here," smiles the crocodile, "and you ought to ssssleep."

"The better to eat you with," a flash of teeth.

So off I go. Always, always, to a better day.

N.

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