Monday, Dec. 12, 2005 - 5:16 p.m.

I want time to stand still. Just for a day or two (or a month or a year or a decade or however the fuck long it takes), so I can catch up. I want people to stop moving forward without me.

I see you�ve been to New York, and you came to London and didn�t call, and you read but we don't talk, and you had a party but sorry I couldn�t invite you again because the new girlfriend was there, and I�m still standing here, on my street, smoking a cigarette, whilst the world gets on with its business.


I�d settle for being a part of someone�s memory, being a photograph they sometimes sentimentally took out from the back of a book.



An obvious lie, I want to be a reality, not a memory.

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