JUNE 17th 1986       




today is Tuesday June 17th 1986. the weather?  the weather is humid, languid, slow.    
my brain is shining with fear and my stomach is uneasy again.  i have a cigarette in my left 
hand and my right forefinger is doing the work.  the ‘phone might ring today and shock me 
into terror.  i am running out of words for fear.  Bob Marley is satisfying his soul on the radio
and my typewriter is dying.  now Genesis are singing about following each other, some DJ is 
asking you to guess the year.  (why did i put those things in capitals, don’t know, don’t care, 
i am typing this in old dylan style, but not especially on purpose, nilhism rules.  now some 
foreign blonde in a plastic mac is singing in the rain.  i will guess the year is 1978 or 1765 and 
will kill someone if i amwrong.    I WAS RIGHT, but i am not telling you which.  
Self Help For The Nerves, my bible.now The Beatles, help me if you can, I’m feeling down...  
Rafaele might be here today, there will be problems with eating tonight, this time no pizzas or 
cheeseburgers, to chew the crap for ten minutes before actually swallowing.  i bet you this year 
is 1965-if you’ve got to go, go now, oh lord please don’t let me be misunderstood.  
i seem to be living on cigarettes now and it is getting harder to breathe, a check up with my 
doctor  might be of use.  perhaps the year is 64. soon on thursday, i will have two weeks of 
hard, hard work and i believe my heart will rip open.everybody is going to Glastonbury because 
they are hippies. Rafaele is going back to France. the year is probably 65, but maybe 66, it is not 67, 
because there are no bells and sitars. how many chances do we get?   how many do you think? 
i haven’t even made love with her and she is going, my heart overloads just kissing her.  i long to 
recover in an exorcism of hard tears.after dinner once, lying on my back in three candlelights, we l
ooked at each other and there it was, deep satisfaction, love in peace, one of those special moments 
which will remain the rest of my life. was it bad of me to have taken her to the garden in the park, where i took 
my last girl for the photos? all my girls end up there sooner or later, as inspiration runs away.  
the last day at the old Beehive and she appeared, unexpected and i was so happy to show her 
off after all the taunts of the other pairs .being beaten up by a drunk ‘friend’ while next to her, actually 
brought us closer together.we chatted each other up after a month or two of avoidance.  now The Stones, 
I can’t get no satisfaction, and every song applies to me now - radio paranoia. chatted up on the last 
rock night, an emotional night indeed for romance.  the manager wants a better class of customer, ha ha. 
Silver Machine, the last record played. now i know it is 65 and i win the prize.  she was with me when i 
handed out the sobranies when i returned from Guernsey, where i learned once again that there is never 
any escape from your mind.  (as i learned in Inertia Wood in 81)  i’ve got to cry this tension out, or i will 
go mad again and end up in Napsbury where three of my closest friends have been.  scared of waking up
to fields of diagrams and numbers. who needs LSD, speed and dope?   just have one long panic attack 
a day and watch the plants and food change before your very eyes.  my heart feels weak.  
listen to the times when you laugh like a lunatic. feel sleepy all day but inside speeding a 
million miles a minute.  oh yes friends, life is good right now. would sex help me i wonder?  
three times a day perhaps, to run naked on the edges of beaches with the wind and rain and 
waves tearing at me, man and the elements. Thompson has an exhibition and i am happy for 
him, Richard has come through aerials and voices in radio waves and is ‘cured’ and i am 
happy for him too.  all the others have their little ways of dealing with life, getting drunk and 
stoned and pretending to live behind masks and i am happy for them.  
Rafaele and i are still very young, worried and unsure about ourselves and i am sad for us.
i think i have been awake forever.  none of them innocent but all naive.  i am trying to change 
my direction. there is madness in my method, trust me, it will be all right.  
June 17th finds me where i have been for the last six or seven years, you can get used to this, 
passively observe, accept it, don’t fight it -not the plans for a psychic anarchist.  


I am a small boy lost in his own house.