I've got all the pears. I've got all the pears I want. All the pears of the world. One, two, three, four. I've got all the pears. They are both round and rectangular and like a small arse. A small purple round arse, the arse of Roy Orbison. Very round and purple, the arse of Roy Orbison. Very very round and purple, just like a pear. 

Here is what I need: an imaginative, spectacular hairdresser that will tell me how to wear my hair now I have new glasses. That will sit me down and comb it patiently with no remorse and make suggestions. Certain, certain suggestions, easy, easy suggestions that I can do in front of a big mirror in my new London room. Then puppy will walk in and say: I prefer your hair down. 

Instead of ears I have two long rectangular pieces of wood that keep my head in its place. They move sometimes and I'm dizzy. I'm also wearing a hat.

I didn't know I did that. I didn't know I still got angry when mother asked for confirmation of being a good mother. I didn't know I still felt pressure when they both said there is clean peach on the side of the kitchen, when they put more spaghetti in my plate than I wanted. When they reminded me that they did not let me be on my own or with other people or myself. When they admitted to think of their life as just us. I didn't know I did that. I still got so upset when I knew, once again, that their life was just us. I do not want to be anyone's life, I do not want to give confirmation, because that itself is pressure, I do not want to eat the clean peach or the spaghetti. I only want to lie down, under the air conditioning in my underwear and think of the bright days to come.

Yeah yeah king size Yeah yeah king size Yeah yeah king size not large king size Yeah yeah king size Yeah yeah king size

Yeah yeah king size not large king size

Yeah yeah king size Yeah yeah king size 

Yeah yeah king size Yeah yeah king size 

Yeah yeah king size Yeah yeah king size 

Yeah yeah king size not large king size

Yeah yeah king size Yeah yeah king size 

Yeah yeah king size 

So this thing happens in my mind: I experience things taking place right now as if they are already gone. Kind of experiencing the nostalgia of having lived these things while living them right now. But, I'm living them right now and yet I'm sad, as if I look back in the past and I see these things in a time which is not now. A time that is already gone,  although these things are happening right now and that makes me sad. Like when you sent your text the teenage volcano last night. I replied and then looked at my inbox again and saw your message and felt as if this is not now; it is a time in the future when now is already gone and your message has been sent in a different time that is not now, and now is already gone and a time when you are not part of my life anymore and I live this as if I'm in the future and I remember how happy I used to be, how happy your text made me, in a time that is now gone. I received your text then, when indeed you were part of my life. But then is now and I'm thinking of now as then and experience the sadness of not having you in my life. And yet, you are here, right now, sending me this text. ( eirini, wake up and get a grip).

Darling, I had a dream about you last night. You made out with my sister, because I had a girlfriend, and then decided to sleep with me in the big corner bed. Under the covers you found a little bag of white powder and we took some, thinking it was mdma. But then discovered that it was pot-pouri.