here i am at mission control, it's messy and cluttered with books, mmm, mission procrastinates cleaning them up, he's loathe to cull, but the inevitable awaits. i clean the bathroom, do my laundry, it's pathetic that i have to do this in the bath, a grown man doing his laundry in the bath, jesus, is this what i have become, some sort of independent wizard relegated to a life in isolation washing his robes in the bath, broke and struggling to make his musical statements, running his amazing rituals and experiments to hack the cosmos and attune himself to the universe, drinking his plant medicines smoking his spliffs, is this the life i imagined when i was younger.
some how i thought i'd be a writer swanning around south east asia with a beautiful wife by my side but here i am washing my shirt in the bath.