Today I woke up with that hunger that you can only get in a morning, like somebody has scooped out your stomach and replaced it with a void made of every bad thing you ever did.
The type of angry hunger that feels like it could never be placated and thinking of food only makes you feel sick.
Then my cat was actually sick on the floor in some filthy of act of solidarity.
And so I had to get up to clean it up. And it’s gonna take at least 30 minutes for my flat to warm up. At which point I’ll be out of the door without a cup of tea in my hollow belly because I forgot to buy milk and all the milk men in London are dead.
But Gary Numan’s new album is really great and I’m starting to think that a banana is a good idea so today could end up being alright.
I’m going to continue my lifelong attempt of writing a chorus better than the last good one.
My mate Mario just wrote a really good chorus ‘If It’s Dead’ by Kryer, it’s been buzzing around my head all week like a fly stuck in a kitchen.
Yesterday I learnt that the word ‘Assassin’ comes from the Hashasin, an Islamic army sect from the 11th Century. Their leader was a nasty old bastard who offered the young recruits a diet of hashish and beautiful women before cruelly taking all these pleasures away from them. He convinced them that they had visited heaven and the only way to return was to fight nobly and die.
So they marched on to war fearless and craving their lost treasures.
Tesco Express have run out of soya milk though so I can relate.