It's the fork and knife existence that just gets to me sometimes. Just lying there, on the table, prosaic and stark, completely at home with the bread crumbs and slowly spoiling milk.

Sometimes when you're sitting alone at a table, aimlessly spinning a pencil or a paper weight, imagine a soft, sad and slow music playing in the background. Imagine a camera zooming in on your eyes, slowing its shutter-speed and capturing blurry blinks in mellow light. Imagine it tracing your lips, capturing inadvertent nervous tics. You know, just. What have you got to lose...you sexy little movie star you.

At four, I always hear the trains. Loud and clear, it's whistle shrieking shrilly through the morning air. And then the chugchugchug. And then the screeching brakes. And then again the chugchugchug. It doesn't bother me. Sometimes, I stay awake for it.

Try not to look at me with drama-queen eyes. I'm a real douche. And I'm okay really, with this sedate, brainless calm. I'd hate to rain on your parade. Go on. Rave and rant a little longer. It's almost fun... like a weird prickly sensation... like a foot gone to sleep.

Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still

I think I've done fairly well. Now lets go and burn some bridges.