…carlos blinded by hair on his all white bed spreadeagle like a born again lustful jesusir he is a s ever a elegant and sweet bawd of romantic notion and thoughts too fast for the tongue raising precious stakes and splintering. we passed each other on the stairs in princelet street. he and a beautiful procession of k-fairies and laughter. me with a cigarette and a loopy qon had to carry her away some point this morning through the rain up brick lane over the railway bridge, stopping off in the park in spitalfields to sit on the swings and defend myself against accusations of social backwardness. what depths of trust are bailed. or seeing all them dancing in dodger morton’s old front room stretched out to conceal. accusative looks of spite and pity from the brigade. i knew the clatter door fucked, and no electricity. candles on the marble and we bathe each other in arcadias favourite bathroom and stretch out with whisky all clean and soft before the fire. No jagged edges there, none of the cut throat spine coiled terse london smile. only the rain on our naked shoulders as we peer out onto faded lit street in the heavenly dawn trailer. i love that place, just there. and all rest for herand i. until}awoken we were at 7 or so by the bawd’s bird falling down the spiral staircase back into unrest single matress on a double bed.

on your day soon when you sit and read through recent postings pigman – read this and weep for that ragged lad death on the stairs and looky for he…

ah well. in 2 days the libertines record their second single ‘up the bracket’/‘the boys in the band’ + one. all i can think of. i live 2 minutes away, there’s no lock on the door. why am I here then? you know why. it’s close enough, I’m obsessed to the point of needing to know everything. all of you. I’ll pretend to be you because you won’t log on. you never even used the internet until you knew you could press a button and see a picture of yourself, and now you’re even afeared to read ANYTHING that might interfere with the ‘peace’ you crave. For a peaceful man you are extremely volatile. In fact, your peace comes only after conflict, til it fades and needs re-touching with further conflict. Is that what you do – what I saw in London? it’s amazing. but are you going to do when everything comes out? When the kids hear ‘bucket shop’ and ‘music when the lights go out’ are they considered Libertines songs or not? There’s further questions that I shall ask elsewhere but for now – you’re not a bad sort.I quite love you.