Feels like my head is an empty vault. I wake up, walk outside, lay down on the grass and gaze @ the sky. I don't even bother to pour my madeira into one of granny's crystal glasses, I just bring the whole bottle. Sometimes I fumble my way through her wardrobes until I fall asleep in a pile of designer clothes on the floor.
Things just keep getting more and more strange. Ppl want me to delete this blog and "shut the fuck up about things that's not mine to share". The attorney came 4 a visit last night. An american spirit in the corner of the mouth, sweat dripping, shirt buttoned wrong.
"You have to be careful with what you say." He said. "Not everyone is your... friend."
I just stared @ a point above his head.

Yeah, there are crazy ppl out there, and some of them have money and weapons and a lot to hide. But "the real world" is like a blurry photo to me. I can't see the motive, no matter how close I look.

Truth is: I'm not allowed to give you (or anybody else) any details about the funeral. Or about granny. Or about other stuff I've been planning to tell you. But I'm fed up to the ears with secrets, so I'm think I'm gonna reveal them anyway. If you want me to?

<3

"The most intense pleasures occur in despair."

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What do u want, heaven or hades? Rainbows or dirt?

It is late now. Outside the soft Bel Air darkness has fallen, and I sit here in my grandmother's bed, in my grandmother's house in my grandmother's city. Alone with my memories.
-The duck with the broken wing me and Viktor found by the creek and got 2 keep. For five weeks feeding him cornflakes, Sprite and love until one morning his box was empty.
-Sunday shopping with dad @ the mall.
-Me overhearing mom complain 2 dad 'bout the stench from the "fucking duck carcass" in the dumpster.
-The 164 cigarettes me and Evan smoked behind the fence towards the hill (yes, I counted them)
-Me leaving Evan 4 Europe. Without a word.

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Life is strange. Now I'm back, and all I can think about is the person I left without a word.

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But until Evan returns I will make do with what I've got. And what I've got is a 52 year old homosexual nobleman from France called Zombie and lives in one of the half hidden guest houses in granny's back garden.

My new found friend believes Hollywood is as interesting as a Dancing Bear with a strange red hat. "Interesting 2 watch perhaps, but not someone you ask for guidance in spiritual matters."

Apart from despising Hollywood, Los Angeles and USA in general he also has this obsessive idea of "hanging out" with me.
Strangely enough he seems 2 have some sort of influence, because there's a lot of important lookin' people comin' and goin' in his small back-yard shed.

And oh yeah - he will stay until the funeral.

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(It's all, I'm sure, grandmother's idea of humor. I can almost hear her laugh from wherever they keep her now.)

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Finally, 2 celebrate my loneliness I've spent the evening writin' something extra 4 you diehards. It's about Evan.

Show encrypted text

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Press "Like" on Facebook below and then visit my Facebookpage 2 get the password.
(Yeah I KNOW there's a lot of Facebook begging these days but that's the only way 4 me 2 know what u ppl want. And I'm nothing but a slave 2 ur affirmation)