‘Dream Within A Dream’ – Propaganda
This time last year: Miranda’s feet; us kissing; her beautiful breasts; the two of us making love.
MEMORIES. BEAUTIFUL MEMORIES.
CONFUSION WAS THE KILLER.
DEPRESSION, PHASE TWO
What a twat.
‘California Dreamin’’ – The Mamas & the Papas
I’m crying again; face to face with my fears. My life might as well just be at an end. I hate it here. I hate it here in Cambridgeshire. Here, where my life has reached its lowest ebb.
It seems I am being made to learn a lesson in patience.
Over the coming year, I had hoped to attempt finding work in ‘showbusiness’. If that didn’t work out then I’d rethink going to Polytechnic (or preferably drama school). But I’m ill-equipped to the task. And it seems I may have to find a factory job or some such rubbish and end up working my way through until at least July 1991 in something I really don’t want to be doing or have the stomach for. I know myself. I know the ruts I get into. By next summer I’ll have lost sight of my dreams and desires. I’ll probably have to get driving lessons and buy a car, too. But on a wage of about £100 a week, what money will I have left? How will I afford to leave home and find my future elsewhere? My life feels like it’s slowing to a halt and I can’t take it. I just can’t take the waiting. And there’s a lot of waiting to be done before I can even begin to start implementing the things I really need to implement in order to even start down the path of my dreams. Bloody arsing bugger.
‘Tomorrow Never Knows’ – The Beatles
I’ve calmed down now. I was on the verge of something terrible earlier on.
I’ve seen a local job advertised that, given the options hereabouts, I would desperately love to do: steward at the Wisbech Museum. I will send my application tomorrow. If it’s what I want and within my capabilities, then I would be very happy to get that job.
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Next time: ‘Cajoled and bullied…’