Kid Cynical and The Cure for Cancer.

Your songs will be breaking all hearts again. Spare me, yeah...

Autumnal awesomeness. No leaves dotting the landscape as yet, but the sun is forgiving and the humidity is a sweaty memory. I strut the house in clothes like I'm some anti-heat android when really it would only take a few degrees increase for me to be shirtless in a puddle on the floor. I like to make believe.

Pick-and-mix my memories. Beg-and-plead my future. Erase-and-rewind my mistakes. I'm on show here, mermaids. I got a cult of personality to build up. I have legends to begin, myths to perpetuate and folk lore to spread. I'm like an early English settler trying to make out like I didn't shoot any pesky natives to get at their women. We all know it ain't true, but man, hindsight don't come 'round for a long time, so I'm making hay while the sun shines. Or "making lay at the gun's side". Rhyme is a great thing. By the time the world discovers I did indeed possess a few negative traits, the entire population will be so enamored of my brilliance that they'll scarcely believe it. I'm infallible. I'm unsinkable.

I'm the Titanic of the modern world. Yeah, distinguished now.

Songs are coming along in leaps and bounds. Big Bro and me are starting to dream. Movie sequels in the pipe-lines also. Upside down characters in every shot. Might need a damsel in distress... Freckle, I'm looking in your direction. Strong though you are, I'm confident your acting chops stretch far enough to encompass the always-difficult nuances of the helpless wench. Shotgun the hero role and the triumphant kiss scene. I will explain more fully when you are back in the borders of this sea-surrounded country. No more land-locked loving for you, m'dear. More information as it comes to hand.

Seem to be reading many rock 'n' roll biographies lately. Kurt and Kiedis, at least. Two men my mother is not fond of after reading their stories. Hell, she'd better not read mine when it comes out. Motherly ignorance equals accepting bliss. At least I have excuses, frail and flawed as they may now seem. Shit I'm in a wordy mood for 2am.

Josef Fritzl on trial for heinous crimes. David Bain on trial for crimes he almost certainly didn't commit. The world is a weird, loathsome place. I don't believe Joe Karram would have risked and lost so much if he wasn't 100% convinced of Bain's innocence. Karram has always been an intelligent and fiercely independent man. Even in his days as an AB he refused to bow to popular pressure. I respect the man, and I hope for his and Bain's sake that his belief in the strange kid with the weird woolen jerseys is well placed. You have my backing, fellas.

And as for Fritzl, well... what can you say other than I hope he suffers now for what he did. The truth is always more disgusting and shocking than fiction. You won't ever watch a film as disturbing as what that sick man inflicted on his own daughter. Goddamn, it makes me ill just thinking about it.

Thankfully there are still pockets of pure pleasure in the world. I am thankful for my family and my closest friends. I am thankful for Freckle. I am thankful for my brother's skills on the guitar, and my ability to at least hum along to his riffs with some semblance of melody. I am thankful for soft pillows under my hard head. Cotton cases for iron pills. I am an anvil inside my mind. Did you bring your umbrella?

Who is your favourite cartoon character?