Happy Christmas, or, if not, a sad one


Thoughts come, thoughts go. Happy thoughts, sad thoughts, all alike they come and go. Why am I alone? What a beautiful seagull in the sunshine. All the leaves have fallen from the London planes now, all of them. Why doesn't it snow? Shouldn't I be doing something? They come, they go.

Prefer snowmen and robins to Christian iconography. Glitter is good. Kary Mullis, the only Nobel laureate to claim a possible encounter with aliens. B S Johnson slit his wrists in the bath at 40 in 1973. Thoughts, they come, they go. My Christmas reading on my desk.

Now I've torn up lots of pieces of paper I have more space. I should paint more, but is there a point? Only one thing makes sense of my life, but it gets me nowhere holding on to it. I no longer have any real conception of time, it doesn't appear to exist as it used to, as I remember it or think I remember it. What are they, thoughts, entertainment? Do I think I will get somewhere by encouraging them? Is thinking like talking to myself? Why am I not bothered? Even looking out the window is going through the motions. What am I waiting for? Have I progressed? Thoughts, they seem irrelevant.

I have silly goals. To squeeze a piece of wood with my hands so I can overcome this idea I have that it is solid, to push my hand through the wall. These are the same goals I had as a child. I can't believe I still have these goals. I do not believe in the evidence of my senses. I prefer to regard hallucinations as the real thing, though as soon as they become real I need not believe in them either. A snowman.

I am going mad in a knowing way. I see through the madness. But there is nothing to cherish the way other people cherish things. I was going to say 'appear to cherish', but no, they do cherish them. I have cast myself adrift and cut myself off. This is okay, so long as it makes sense in the end, otherwise it may just turn out to be a big mistake. But my state of mind is quite attuned to not being bothered even if it is all a big mistake. I know what I saw. I just didn't count on the years and years. But, that said, I am not bothered. My mind is a clear blue sky. I wipe it clean all the time. Thoughts come, thoughts go. They are nothing to me. Any day, life could be completely different. I must like nothing much happening right now. And look how blue the sky is this winter's day with the sun reflecting on the windows in the east.

But probably you pick up a tone of sadness, and think that is more real than sadness going. Well, for a while it is more real, and then it goes and it is not real at all. I can't always wait until it is not more real before getting words down on paper just to make you feel less awkward. If you worry, know that I see through this and I see through you too, and why don't you understand that the real real thing is none of this, and that is the point. Do you think a river is having a hard time when the riverbank gets constricted? Bring up your babies and look after your families, but myself I have other things on my mind of which death and disappearance are things to flirt with while twiddling my thumbs. Ultimately, something mad is what I will be known for. And when I am gone I will not be gone.

It is pleasing to express it whether it is happy or sad.