Feels like my head is an empty vault. I wake up, walk outside, lay down on the grass and gaze @ the sky. I don't even bother to pour my madeira into one of granny's crystal glasses, I just bring the whole bottle. Sometimes I fumble my way through her wardrobes until I fall asleep in a pile of designer clothes on the floor.
Things just keep getting more and more strange. Ppl want me to delete this blog and "shut the fuck up about things that's not mine to share". The attorney came 4 a visit last night. An american spirit in the corner of the mouth, sweat dripping, shirt buttoned wrong.
"You have to be careful with what you say." He said. "Not everyone is your... friend."
I just stared @ a point above his head.
Yeah, there are crazy ppl out there, and some of them have money and weapons and a lot to hide. But "the real world" is like a blurry photo to me. I can't see the motive, no matter how close I look.
Truth is: I'm not allowed to give you (or anybody else) any details about the funeral. Or about granny. Or about other stuff I've been planning to tell you. But I'm fed up to the ears with secrets, so I'm think I'm gonna reveal them anyway. If you want me to?