'Does writing feel as good as getting your cock sucked off then?'
'Jesus! No it does not - not that I've written anything for two months, but no it does not.'
'So, why bother doing it at all?'
'Like I said I haven't been writing and if it was as good as a swallowing BJ, I'd be churning it out like ten thousand Barbara fucking Cartlands.'
'So, what's it all about then?'
'The most honest answer I can give is that it's about fuck all - the more about fuck all it is, the more it's about everything.'
'Right - so you don't know why either then you gobshite?'
'Well - okay - it's about the coming in someone's mouth. It's because of how that feels that it needs writing. It's about being drunk, fighting. It's about Sunday morning. It's about opening a packet of crisps. It's about shooting Barbara Cartland in her brain. It's about fuck all and everything. If you're not going to take that in, then stick to coming in mouths without enjoying it properly then. That's how I see it.'
------
I'm back. I'm just about recovered from the country transplant. I can see me posting more regular again. Is anyone still out there?
All the same - I'll be here, writing, being blown.
I can see the shape of something appearing, but not sure what yet. Malaysia is everything different. I'm not in taxis in tunnels now - I'm sweating on platforms, waiting for driverless, airconned trains. No sushi - curries. Korea smelt like an occassional something revolting - Malaysia reeks of at least seventeen smells at every moment - I'm evolving surround-sound nostrils daily.
And, that's where it always starts for me - the nose. After all, smell is the least adulterated sense from the bunch. Now my smell is here, the rest'll spin into focus sharpish.
Then, I'll be back - no more two months away. See you very soon with something.
Any requests?
