Twice now I have been to a sub-par takeaway-only variant of McDonald's, once in Westward Ho! and once near Uplowman. In both cases the restaurants have been cramped, the decor out of date, and the food underdone and flaky. The Westward Ho! branch served raw meat cuts.

Last night I extracted a truly enormous blackhead from my face while showering. I wanted to step on it to extract the pus, but it slipped into the drain before I was able.

Justin Lee Collins was perched at the top of Cabots Circus, threatening to jump. After an hour of negotiation he did the deed, perishing in sickening slow-motion detail. Much blood.

An old school classmate complained about how his dog Ss had died. I told him to stop moping and just get another one called Tt.

A Gigeresque craft that stood, twisted and pretzel-like, on the surface of the moon. On its underside was a cheerful Aardman-style plasticine face.

stets on my bed
stets on my bed
stets in my head
stets on my bed

Team Fortress Comics #7 was finally released, accompanied by a truly ridiculous Neil Cicierega video full of mashups, ‘Poops, and other ridiculous TF2 remix content. It was eighteen minutes long.

“The Nick Drake Virtual Reality Experience”.

The prison of choice for a cohort of juvenile offenders was a series of skylights on our roof. The boys peered through at night, leering and spitting at us, as we cowered in fear.

A wide half completed crest that represented my life so far. Determined, I vowed to make the most of the rest of my crest.

The curly haired tanned boy from Year 11 chased me home asking why the fuck I wouldn’t let go of the past -

through choking
lead and tripner
leg around my
vibrating sac of
funny smiles

through grunting
skittering little
demons heading our
way from epsilon
eridani iv

through heaven’s
balustrade-lined
crackhouse in
dreams I thought
I’d never parse

parsiphaan makes
his final deal and
prepares the ricin
goblet for you.

I started keeping my current dream diary in July 2015, shortly after I left sixth form and my formal structured world collapsed into the long endless path it’s on now. I don’t know how long I’ll end up keeping the diary for. If the technology and the motivation persists, then I could be doing this for a long time. It is scary to imagine me forty or fifty years hence, in a world where we didn’t all drown or freeze or choke on fallout but just continued down our long endless path, and I’m still writing down what I see every night, still with the same locations and themes and people.