A rebel without a clue.

Wetherby is a camp for the dying and the dead. There are old people and dangerously ill people too everywhere on a Thursday. It's that midmorning time of day and a Thursday market day too, but it's another symbol of the death of Wetherby. In the previous allegory metaphor there were just a few atoms left circling dying and now I see the remnants of galaxies. Somewhere someone is being bombed indiscriminately and somewhere 3 media darlings are fanning another media dreadful: Fern! We're bombing the wrong people.

In the bowels of the Marriott no one ever hears you scream. Gucci init, LV init or emptiness init? Remember there is a reason for stepping back from the brink. Remember to decide. You decide. I decide. It's ours to decide. I don't want to die without at-least making decisions about me: ones that appease me; fuck all the rest.

I am in the guilded hall with fat lasses eating scones and lashings of cramming cream. Ensconced between columns of marble they scrape butter pleasure, jam and sup tea from chipped porcelain. Synchronized hand wiping on white paper napkin. Mechanical short locks and dangling ear stand out. Glasses, bespoken spectacles, glitter of ringed fingers and wagging pen. Autobahn in the sun. The fun fun fun. 

Office girls get up and dress like whores. Office gentlemen dress like confirming priests. Some of them drag on fag ends in longing for destiny Some of them talk to their handsets like it's war. There is a faux friendship here And blank impotent rage When in years gone bye nine bells would toll The reality of slavish coil doesn't depend on whistles. Fake leather elbows on a tweed coat: oh is that the best you can do? Drag them away one by one and shoot the lot. Put them on the east coast cattle truck to be boiled down to tallow.

Oh the misery I spent Friday nicely. But Saturday wasted was 40 pounds lighter 40 pounds unreal I wanted 40 pounds of flesh I ended towards the rear Unable to take part Oh, 'cept for Hazel,  The night wasn't fore Trailing out by 10pm 40 pounds rounded down £1.25 of all I can concern.

Eh you know I'm not one for complaining, much, but I think I've just spent £250 quid on the biggest waste of 5 days ever. Exeter piss poor backpackers with zero feeling shoved full of itinerant workers and chinamen. Launceston so in the middle of nowhere to not know where nowhere is (is it Cornwall or is it shite or is it on the A30 between nowhere and nowhere) and where a heart can be broken by so someone so effortless and quiet. The longest road though has to be the enormous effort to get to and from Falmouth without mindless and gormless ranters and to trundle along in a happy shopper bus through one too many Trelistlessnessesevenlevonpoollooe only to arrive in Falmouth and discover the set of keys that Globe gobshite backpackers of Exeter will no doubt want their £10 of flesh for. Then to stay in The Ladder where the locals are listless and eyeless zombies drivelling one too many Grandma Weapon Grade and Old Rosie and where DJ's play lotus spread and aren't eclecti...

17:26. 05/02/2011 Jacob's Ladder, Falmouth What a solemn day. I got out of the Hostel/Pub around 3pm after a well needed bacon and tomato (BLT minus Lettuce) @ £3.95. I went to bed just after last orders. Spoke to Spencer who had just got back from Isle of Skye sister pub(apparently there are 2). I reckon I had 3 pints of Rattler in Nancy's while watching Wales lose graciously to England in the 6 nations opener(first time for me to care so much) had a laugh with some RFA and then moved to hunt some grub(chicken shish and red cabbage). Back at the Ladder and a few pints of Grandma's Weapon Grade ginger beer. Got into a slight argument about the actual number of ' Cinque ' ports. Agreed to disagree and he said he wouldn't completely disbelieve me until he'd looked into the matter. Spoke to a girl, sister of Elle, who complained she recently broke up with her bf because his wener was just 'too' small! Retired and slept very well, but then woke up n...