Entropy

Within thermodynamics and statistical mechanics, entropy is a measure of the number of random ways in which a system may be arranged; often taken to be a measure of "disorder".

Increases in entropy correspond to irreversible changes in a system, because some energy must be expended as waste heat, limiting the amount of work a system can do.

I leave for England tomorrow.

The Idiot

1.35am - rambling to myself, wrestling with what I assume is something I shouldn't have done. It seemed like for a brief moment that I was needed. Just not in the same way. This applies to all and everything.

Today it snowed and I let her go again, she brought comfort for a short time and now I'm alone.

Everything has become brief moments and short times, my body rejected, my love gone, each creature of beauty far away. This weekend someone said to me "now is the time to learn to love yourself". I told them to get fucked. Pissing crass clichés at me when really what I need is someone to say:

"My God, what has the universe brought me? A person of such unusual quality! How can this be that I am lucky enough to have met someone this wonderful?!"

No one has said that or at least fucking acted like they felt that way for a long fucking time.

I had it once, but she's gone, gone to the arms of another. I just forget sometimes that this is how it is.

...and most days it's barely worth waking up.

In truth

I'm not handling this very well and it's taking pretty much most of my energy not to do something stupid.

And it's difficult, from a world where information is hurled at me from all angles, between twitter and facebook updates, myspace visit notifications and emails and phone calls of both bewilderment and sympathy. I cut this existence out, and at some point I must have assumed I was good at it. As it transpires it just makes everything much more difficult.

Tonight I spray on my fake smile and laugh and try to be professional. I medicate myself with alcohol and pornography. I allow misery to collapse out like a drunk at 4am. The drunk doesn't work with the ground he falls onto, the instruments around me are no substitute, they are the pavement.

You see, I am used to a world where people like me because somehow something I've written has touched them in some way. I am told I am talented, handsome, occasionally funny, kind, generous and intelligent.

Now, all this is rendered meaningless and it is a struggle to find a relative comfort even in the good things that have happened, in my friends who are trying to hold me up, in a career I've worked hard at.

I'm still waiting for a gesture that I can no longer make knowing it will never come.
Because only one person has seen this side of me...



When, When We Were Young
We Had No History
So Nothing To Lose

Meant We Could Choose
Choose What We Wanted Then
Without Any Fear
Or Thought Of Revenge

But Then You Grew Old
And I Lost My Ambition
So I Gained An Addiction
To Drink And Depression

They Are Mine
My Only True Friends
And I'll Keep Them With Me
Until The Very End

I'd Choose Not To Remember
But I Miss Your Arrogance
And I Need Your Intelligence
And Your Hate For Authority

But Now You're Gone
I Read It Today
They Found You In Spain
Face Down In The Street

With A Bottle In Your Hand
And A Wild Smile On Your Face
And A Knife In Your Back
You Died In A Foreign Land

And They Found My Letter
Rolled Up In Your Pocket
Where I Said I'd Kill Myself
If She Left Me Again

So Now She's Gone
And You're Both In My Mind
I've Got One Thing To Say
Before I Am Drunk Again

God Damn The Sun
God Damn The Sun
God Damn Anyone
That Says A Kind Word
God Damn The Sun
God Damn The Sun
God Damn The Light It Shines
And This World It Shows
God Damn The Sun

...as one life ends

another begins.

Horsehead Blue

I am tentacle climbing onto shore
there stands the great hallowed obstacle
reaching for that blue forming unseen light
rescuing that thought from a spirit guide
staring at your sky for passing ghosts
let us welcome in what cannot be seen

I become too late
I become too late
I cannot resist
I cannot resist

Fractured spine at last
I can see through time
electricity triggers paths unknown
taps at my window all through the night
could I bear to see who is at my door?
would I let them in?
could it possibly be that passenger that comes for us?

I become too late
I become too late
I cannot resist
I cannot resist

For the woman I love.

If Only Tonight We Could Sleep

Much like the Christmases of old, like Butlin's Minehead on my birthday eagerly awaiting another few hours trying to work out how that fucking "Tron" arcade game actually worked, I am filled with immense triumph and giddy excitement on return home tomorrow.

Waiting for that plane to land, for the cold to hit my face, to feel some kind of comfort. No one can guarantee this, I'm not asking them to.

Just: if I collapse? You'll know how I felt.

Calm Yourself Cathy

Cathy O'Brian, that poor little girl. Taken, abused and left to survive in a world with no evidence to support the memories of those bloody lizardmen and illuminated ones in league with her Child Pornography producing father, her victim recruiting uncle and that damned CIA. Under the banner: OPERATION MONARCH

...and to think of the poor husband, pulling the information out of his new wife, going over all the details, one by one, making notes, building the case.

Antoni Maiovvi plays at MONARCH, Skalitzer strasse 134, Kreuzberg, Berlin on the 26th November 2009

When former CIA Director William Colby was asked directly, “What about monarch?” he replied angrily and ambiguously, “We stopped that between the late 1960’s and the early 1970’s.”