The Filibustering has Begun.

I know you've said this before. The social fist to the jaw. I hope you realise you'll be getting no sleep tonight.

Happy birthday surprises. Love to see my friends smiling. Tears of joy kill tears of sorrow. Quick and still and painless. We pour more vodka and juice from the Corporate Box, the Goon Bag. We laugh heartily.

Have to give big ups to Tyree and Young Sid from homegrown hip hop chart-toppers Smashproof. They handled my claims of superior lyrical skills and propensity for spitting ill rhymes with subdued dignity in the bar last night. Even challenged me to an impromptu rap battle which I managed to avoid. For guys who could be forgiven for buying into the fame hype - given their recent run as longest serving Number One hit by a New Zealand act - they took my drunken claims of rhyme-superiority with surprising good humour. When I told Tyree that Eminem spits way "iller rhymes" than him, he merely shrugged his shoulders and agreed.

Seems I've lost a friend, too. It is no big deal. He has had too many chances; too many let offs. I have had enough, and the right fist to his face probably sent a clear approximation of those feelings. Sometimes a fist is the most succinct way to acknowledge that the glory days are over. I am not in mourning. Onwards and upwards, as they say.

Big Bro is writing new and exciting songs. I need to get back to the lyric book, so to speak. I need to get in the creative groove and do these tunes justice. Ebb and flow. Stop and go. I'll be hitting lyrical highs before the week is out. I want to be the illest rhymer in rock. There's an aspiration for the Ray Diaries.

So never mind the inclement weather or the unsightly looking women throwing me glances in the street. It's all imaginary, anyway. I'm thinking up the next chapter as I type. You deposit $200 into my bank account every month, and I'll serialize my story. Think of it as reading for the time-poor. One chapter a month? Surely even the busiest sound-gear businesswomen can fit that in. Maybe even a text, too? Some days are lonely.

How do you spell retarded?