the little man has finally appeared here upon these pages, he has made the fame or infamy of a post. A short stitch in time the precedes another nine and then on and on into whatever. The man was at his most obstrusive and flung his fury around the air like a exploding volcano, bits of molten castellano and english rang around and spurted from his obviously well over swollen cranium. It was a beautiful day to look outside, i did for some time in the afternoon and was well and at peace. He is a stranger man than most i would think and someone who is beginning a lurch perhaps into some kind of madness, perhaps not, this to me is not known but simply a mere suspicion that has been building. It was nice to see the sun and to be able to bathe in its bright and warm glow. I might have enjoyed today more if i had been less tired so i'm going for a sleep soon as i finish this.
The girl who organizes the building of the houses thought she could ignore me more today, i think now she will moot over me more than ever. The little man i think will bathe in the suffering he attempted to throw upon me with such arrogant vigour. I wonder where the punk is now, the one with the leather boots and black jacket who sat across from me on the train this morning. I wonder what time i will wake tomorrow. I make music tomorrow if all goes well. Perhaps go for a walk and see manny's music and look at a keyboard, then i will drift along brunswick street. Fitzroy, overrun at present by a screaming upperclass hoard but ever simmering in it's own little vat of filth and inspiration. Ever a pleasure my dear.