Grip

'This is Guy. Strictly speaking cognomens aren't en vouge yet. But we're the elite here.'

It was Nathan

'M. Guida Pal. Cicero actually. Nova Roman you know.' The heavy gold bracelets spilling out from under his his thick hooded cloak said it all.

'I'm a guide too. That's what I've been doing for the last few years. Paving the way. There's a lot to talk about Jake.' Lauren looked guilty.

She handed me some wine. I gulped it. The mosaics were beautiful - Ancient Rome in Africa. Nathan, Guy, whatever his fucking name was, was watching me carefully. He couldn't stop himself from smiling.

'I've been waiting for this day for a long time' he grinned.

The full impact was starting to hit me. I was in another country, another time, in another body and the two people I thought I knew were giving me the distinct impression that what I knew was horseshit. This was nothing to do with drugs. This was serious. I finished the wine and demanded another.

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.

Freefall

(Jake: 25 May 2003)

As per usual I’ve done fuck all with my free time. My afternoon ‘drink’ turned into several and then, by the early evening, it seemed entirely necessary for Jonti to score cheap pills off some bloke in the toilets.

Anvil on my lungs. I’ve cained all my pot and got a cold and sweaty feeling. I’ve not slept properly yet but had a strange waking dream.

It was monochrome and silent.
I was travelling on a train.
The interior was luminous white: tables, seats, fittings, everything.
A dark city looped past outside
in a cartoon-background-kind-of fashion –
deranged animals chase after each other with axes.
A woman slid in and sat opposite me.
She was looking over her shoulder and was trying to tell me something.
No sounds came out of her mouth.
An inspector appeared and she FREAKED.
It suddenly dawned on me that it was Lauren.
She was tired and older
but, still the beautiful green eyes.
The inspector dragged her away by her hair as she kicked and screamed.

It was all a bit fucked up really.
I’ve just looked in the mirror. My cheeks are rosy and I can’t stop licking my puffy lips. Surely it must be time for another toss? The phone seems to ring constantly but I can’t face any interaction today. Panda and Mum left messages.