Max penetration

(Jake: 29 May 2003)

I’ve had that roundabout feeling again today. It must stop at some point so that I can get off. Even Jaz Man mentioned the carousel in his disappointingly, sugar-coated shit, non-hit wonder. I think it would be in my best interests to listen to more rock music. Maybe I’ll dabble with a bit of Slayer to pep me up a bit before I go out tonight. Fuck that, I need Sex Pistols. I’m feeling a bit anxious and aggressive for some reason.

I’ve arranged to go meet Nathan and Jonti in town later – just a few drinks to ease me into the weekend. I’ll probably get a bit sauced and end up leering stupidly at young women in the mistaken belief that I’ll take one home and neatly fuck her on my kitchen table for maximum penetration. Oh, I can smell the cheap perfume already.

I must get this down quickly. It’s all to do with Lauren. I had another dream about her last night – well, at least I think it was her.

Walking and talking.
Pitch dark, ruined amphitheatre –
like the one in El Jem.
I was walking in straw, crossing a courtyard
Fuck, I’m back here again
Shadowy characters, gathered in corners.
They were looking at us and muttering.
A fat man stopped me and asked me for a cigarette and, for some reason, I said: ‘Sorry mate, I don’t smoke’.
He knew I was lying and became demonic.
He chased us into a room with peasants rolling about on straw.
They were INJECTING THEMSELVES.

I panicked and woke up at this point. I’d seen the revolting fat man on the train.