What day is it? I don’t know. Why not? Because I don’t care. And why is that? Because it has no meaning. What? What day it is, damnit. Why? Or who is president, who is at war, who is sleeping. It really doesn’t matter. It won’t help to know these things. It won’t stop it. Don’t hand me flowers or lull me to sleep, it won’t help. Tell me what’s wrong? You don’t understand. What day it is? You don’t understand... It’s September twelfth. See what I mean? What? That you don’t understand. What day it is? You don’t understand... What day is it? It’s September 12th. See what I mean? Understand what? I can’t explain it to you. I don’t know what I understand. I can’t only look and listen. And what I hear and see I don’t understand. I’m not a politician. I don’t understand politics. And everything is politics... What? Everything is leaning on something else. Everyone leans on someone. But I don’t trust myself to lean. I don’t trust myself with other people. Because they are on the outside. I can never really bring them in. And I hate that. I hate being alone more than you can imagine. But.. It’s not really that I hate myself. I just don’t understand... What don’t you understand? How to be. What to do. Contradiction. Contradiction? Who am I? Why am I here? I’m doing these things I do, but I don’t know why. I have to eat, and I have to breathe, but I just don’t know... Know what? What is success? What does it mean? Well it depends on what you want out of life. That answer could make me scream. What? SCREAM, you heard me. What kind of a stupid–What do you think this is? I can’t play this way. It has to be for keeps. It’s all a game, and I’m sick of the game. I don’t want life that’s a toy, where you make up the rules as you go. I don’t want to make up the rules, I want to FIND THEM...But I can’t seem to. Maybe you’re looking for something that does not exist? Huh? I mean you may be looking too hard for something too simple... So I should have babies and take long walks in the woods? Is that what yr. saying? Are you trying to run from those things? O Shit Forget It! I can’t talk to you! What’s the matter? Sometimes I dream of being pierced by arrows as the nights falls. Like Saint Sebastian, you know? And the whole feeling is so beautiful, such complete, sexual pleasure. Drifting off, drifting into darkness, my body penetrated by hard points of light, (laughs) yeah, like small lights amidst the falling night. So pure, so hard. So delicious for being so strong. Unswerving. Straight into me. Penetrating. And I’m drifting off, but my skin is feeling those little pricks of pleasure and it feels so real, so goddam concrete that I just cream with some sort of ultimate satisfaction. Satisfaction. Climax. Death. Twilight. Pain. Pleasure. I swim at last thru a sea of concreteness. And its so different, so real, so godammed real. Such a painless drift...I feel so satisfied that at last I have, I know, what’s really— I’ve found something I can trust, some small truth. And nothing can break its shell. Because in another moment I should drift away completely. Down into deep blue waters. Somehow water, always deep and blue figures in towards the end... MMMmmm... But I always surface, don’t you see? And then nothing is real. I can’t count on anything. Anyone... I don’t want to count on anyone, or have anyone count on me. “Slowly I drift down and arch my back thru the deep blue...” I once wrote about it. But I never comes out right. Always too trivial too flimsy to really say anything back to me. And yet other people have written about these things. And I’ve responded.... Other people have dealt with these things... But how? What do you plan to do? Oh Christ I don't know. There’s nothing I can do. And only one way out now. It sounds so melodramatic, I know. Why aren’t you happy? What? What would make you happy? What? Really happy. Umm, to see all the governing bodies of the world collapse in one big heap. Smouldering in rubble. Why is that? I don’t know it’s just how I feel. Tell me why. There are so many governments. Yes. And so many people, so many cogs... Yes. It doesn’t seem right. You can’t deal with people as a group. People need to be individuals, that’s only right. MMMmmm... No-one wants to see themselves as a cog in a machine, really, where “They give you stuff to type and you don’t even know what it means...” No control at all. Yet so many people let it happen. It scares me. Why? I don’t know. I guess I want to be sure. Sure? Of being individual. I’m not always sure I am. I’m not sure who I am. I don’t understand right or wrong. What today means, or tomorrow. Yesterday. Memory, what is it ? How do I travel those paths again and again? Memory and dreams and waking life all roll into one. It makes me... I can’t go on... What day is it? 28th of September.