09 August 2011
How utterly frivolous these words must appear to you at times! I do recognise my great fortune, for which I am grateful. And I delight in the rituals. But all is not as it seems. We slouch towards a storm-smothered end. I express my view here, in the last days of the Kali Yuga, like a bloody nightmare foretold. I focus my eyes with fixed aim to ignore the hurricane-chaos around me, which grows more intense. A daily combination of cocktails and codeine provides ecstasy and contemplation. I am drunk most of the time, or otherwise disengaged, just to stay alive. I plumb the depths of memory and conjecture, a reteller of future myths. But it is not enough. Bloodlust, revenge, glory: I was made for it. It's coming. Cometh the hour, cometh the man.