A rebel without a clue.

I have been searching for meaning in my life for as long as I could consider what life could possibly be for. The conclusion I perpetually come to is that there isn't any. This makes me very very depressed and disappointed. But I must be wrong and must be missing something because a great many people do appear to have a great deal of meaning in their lives; and leave so many smiles in their passing. As I sit quietly by, early on the Monday morning, it's impossible not to listen to the passing conversations between the various bird species: crows in the tall sycamore trees, pigeons on the rooftops and a variety of songbirds perched around the hedges, shrubs and smaller trees and in the background I hear the rumble of traffic on the A1(M), but what am I listening for? Is it the answer to my search for meaning? It's 5:30am and I'm stood waiting the the same kettle to boil to fill the same cafeteria before I sit at the back patio doors and linger over the same cup of coffee...

Six days walking and several days suffering a hangover... Boring. I'm bored of me. Truly I must break the cycle. When I'm in the moment of walking there is nothing to say. It's only when I'm hungover or pissed off about something or someone that I have a word to say. I'm utterly contemptible. S unday morning in Pollença, 3rd October. To a bustling Roman era market town escaping Palma on the first bus 301 at eight. BOC Hostel wasn't a party place (they said), but, it being Saturday evening, the younger others in room 3G were out until around 3. Then, at around 4, some heavy bass began kicking out in the park behind the Hostel. It didn't last long, and I drifted back to sleep until after six, when I abluted and went searching everywhere for coffee on a Sunday morning. Discovering a microbrewery next door to the hostel didn't help either - Adalt which means attic or above or something. It took me a long time to discover a café and recover some p...

A journey to the end of the novel Or a journey to the end of the night? When does this conveyer belt become comprehensible? I distrust everything I despise everyone As I trickle over Towards extinction And excursion It's Domingo And I'm tired And appalled.