"Amazing Steaks, How Sweet the Sound"

Steak is amazing. It is the muscle of another animal. But that isn't something I consider as I am brutally tearing it apart with my spiky incisors.

Our Vast Continent Is Heavy With Competition and (lack of) Compassion

God how my heart hurts me, when people are cruel and unkind to each other, and when I run too fast when I have just woken up.

I have to slip out the window, unnoticed, at night, for some fresh air and a chance to collect my thoughts and consider my situation. Here I am, at my age, and I own nothing and live entirely on someone else's charity. That window is my little portal to freedom, and sometimes I never want to go back inside.

They say a whole lot of Sierra Leonian athletes have disappeared into Melbourne and will probably resurface and seek asylum eventually. We Africans look after each other. I'm so fucking glad the Commonfilth Games are over. The closing ceremony is this evening, but I can't be bothered watching it. I suppose the government can kick all the homeless people out of the hotels now. Even thgouh I am housebound, I still read the paper.

At Both Ends of the Day

Oh god. This morning she stood naked in the bathroom and screamed 'Tom' repeatedly at me while I was trying to sleep. I opened an eye and attempted to glare at her. What a sight! It made me malt.

She finally gave in and bought ******* again, after a week of my whining. What she doesn't understand though is that I cry out to her in desperation because I can't eat that god awful shite, and she responds by insulting me and whining about how fussy I am. I wouldn't expect her to eat dog shit or offal, so why the fuck should I eat horrible food?

A Division of Joy

She's gone mad (or, like Ian Curtis said "she's lost control". He was a funny man wasn't he?). This morning she picked me up and wouldn't let go, as if she had some need to burrow into me like a mole. She says "Oh Tom, I love you", but she says it so often I can't help but wonder about the sincerity of it. I say "of course you fucking love me, I'm dependant on you for food and shelter, and you interpret my need as love and you love feeling needed". She has talked about unrequited love before, and maybe she should again.

Why is she always in this hyped up state, as if she can never really relax? She is living too quickly, and then she turns around and asks me what has happened to time? Reminds me of a line in the film Memento; "how am I supposed to heal if I can't feel time"? I don't think she feels time the way that other people do. Is that why she is so urgent?

All Day All Day....Domino Dancing

I have been unbelievably lonely recently. When they come home I am mournful and loud, and not because I am a brat, or a "little dickhead" as she calls me, but because I am sad. She has so frequently wondered how she and others would react if I spoke. They place so much importance on speech, and lips, and structure and order. She sometimes looks at me pityingly and says "poor little thing, you can't experience humour, or laugh, or smile". This annoys me. After all, I don't think it is sad that she doesn't eat raw meat or can't lick her own arse. It's funny how your experience of the world becomes the only legitimate one. As Cyndi Lauper once said; "I had a false confidence that the world had no boundaries."