When I blow my nose black shit, a bit like newspaper ink, comes out in chunks on the tissue.
West London is much better than living near Manor House. West Ealing has organic food so I can get back to dreaming of being middle class.
Ealing has third generation Polish.
I found a nice wee man in a plastic shack that sells pasta on Ealing Broadway. Only £3.
My mind is better. If better is the word. A bit better. Now I must make time. Or at least the potential for working into nothing through words.
So yes. Here we go. Another flat share on Sunday for one month. Then in September my fourth move in four months.
So yes. Here we go. A can of Lech. At least I can speak my language.
The man in the plastic food shack is happy to sell his pasta. He asked me if I wanted cheese or special sauces. And he has the sauces: peppers and creamy peppers and creamy white pepper sauces.
I want to find my mind. But what is there to find?
How can a mind exist in time?
But the mind moves the body she sd and the mind moves something inside itself we call thoughts and thoughts are an action and can lead to a bodily action. But its all body in the end.
Body body body.
My left eye is twitching again. Something is about to take off. To be
Shroud and cloud. Blurry vision. My left eye and my gums. it's the heat and it's coming to London, soon.
I am hitting my mid thirties but what does that mean?
We grow up with people and some of them have babies. Most of them seem to have a baby or two or three or sometimes seven if their Mormon or sometimes catholic or or or . . .
Do I want a baby?
What would I do with a baby?
So yes, it is time again, to begin again, and again and again and again.
it is good to teach English. And better still to teach English to people who want to learn. I want to see my language by listening.
I want to turn my mind inside out and see what falls.