I have no friends . . . I am alone.

Shit.

I've been going through nothing but hazy days. It's kind of sad when smoking and pills are the only way I enjoy myself, the only way I have fun. I'm not so creative, I'm not so original, I'm not so me. I want to leave to run away, but that takes money I desperately need and don't have. I start classes Monday, and I'd really rather much spend that ( Read more... )

On November 14th 1989, at 8:48pm and 32 seconds, a bluebottle fly capable of 14,670 wing beats a minute landed on Rue St Vincent, Montmartre. At the same moment, on a restaurant terrace nearby, the wind magically made two glasses dance unseen on a tablecloth. Meanwhile, in a 5th-floor flat, 28 Avenue Trudaine, Paris 9, returning from his best ( Read more... )

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