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I need to be more conventional

I can’t write like other people, or act like them, or even think like them. When I see Justin going stir-crazy on his site, I feel a pang of pleasure and, yes, even companionship in my deranged lunacy. Nice word, lunacy, it implies that the moon is responsible for your madness. My own personal madness probably stems from some other bastard kid kicking down a sandcastle I made when I was five. Kids are bastards. Then again, I never thought of it as an immature trait, being an bastards, I always thought it was a sign of being very grown-up. I mean, grown-ups had control, and so did bastards, it was only logical to make a link between the two. For people like me, a little unpopularity could be easily eradicated by being a bastard, people loved me for when I opened a can of verbal whoop-ass on some poor idiot. They still do. Isn’t it sick, the things our society rewards you for? My father always said, turn away from bad people, don’t involve yourself, don’t confront them unless you’re forced to. The Bible tells us that the best way to “put the evil out from among you” is to gather people together and stone your enemies to death. And they teach this stuff to kids? How come no Christian I ever met as a kid was such a tough sonofabitch rock-hurling bully? They were generally quiet, considerate, and gave you lots of carefully prepared snack foods when you visited their house. Christians ought to be more badass. I blame the New Testament, all that ‘love thy neighbour’ shit… the Old Testament, by comparison, is an orgy of violence, destruction and, well, orgies. It’s more like ‘love thy neighbour, unless his daughter gives her virginity outside of wedlock, in which case, kill him, her, and the guy she was fucking.’ It’s great!

I couldn’t face another day of arsing about online and not studying, getting stoned and so forth, so I went out with some friends who do that whole ‘mature’ thing, ie sit around and drink coffee and talk a lot… then again, people do that in Brunei, too, so I feel right in questioning the intrinsic maturity of it all. Anyway, my friend Phillippe (sp?), who’s French, gave me some advice that I thought all those of you caught up in emotional crises (you know who you are) should hear: ‘love like you’ve never been hurt, and never will be hurt again.’ Kitsch, I know, but something to consider. Normally he just talks about sex and how his two North Korean adopted sisters throw their dirty underwear at him when he doesn’t tidy the house. Lucky bastard.

I have an exam on monday. Shit. It’s not that I’m worried about failing, you NEVER worry about that when it gets to university. They know they need your money, and they’ll let you resit exams ad infinitum… it might actually be good to fail, because I’d do resits before the next term, and that would give me something to do on the weekdays in Brunei this summer. I don’t worry about that, I worry about the physical strain of spending three hours writing. That’s how lazy and useless I’ve become. I do NOTHING… no work whatsoever. I’ve got experience, I suppose, from all those years of doing fuck all in Brunei.

Right, a few side notes for people: Edo- good luck with that old lady you’re going to have it out with (ooer); Dan- ‘Obsoletion’, like ‘Platonian’, isn’t a word (try obsolescence, though that too is rather dubious), although I would like everyone to know that there are photos of Justin on Dan’s ‘Discofrog’ site, so the veil can be lifted from Justin “web-daddy” Jaafar, aka Justin “slightly evil-sounding last name” Jaafar, or, more usually, ‘Jason’ Jaafar. Also, I think Justin’s old site has a particularly unflattering image of my ex-girlfriend, Naomi. Heh, I remember that night just before you left Brunei, dude, and I must say, it was cool, apart from you not letting me watch Mall Rats, thereby adding to my ever-growing and ever-embarrassing list of generation-defining films I never bothered to see. I am such a lazy ass.

PS Nice feature, Edo… reply to my email now or I’ll get mad.

PPS- No one call Annie tomorrow night. She’s busy. K, sweetie?

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