{ 2002.10.26 } On my mind. Old photographs. How on earth people coped. Cub Scouts brainwashing. Seeing your faces on other people. How much time goes by in 20 years. In fourteen. The perfect expression, tranquil with the is-ness of now, the mark of a life I want to lead. A goal, right there on film.

Listening: Everything we've ever stolen/ Has been lost returned or broken/ No more dragons left to slay/ Every mistake I've ever made/ Has been rehashed and then replayed/ As I got lost along the way.

Sunflowers, and so happy I could cry. (Did cry.) Bom bom bom, ba da dum, bom bom. Or the other way round.

{ 10.23 } Wednesday, midday. I feel as though my physical form is fleetingly coexistent with a cloud of sadness in the universal aether as it finally sinks in that Agent Honeydew is a, a cartoon character, and (what's more) b, in love with a monkey. Sigh.

{ 10.20 } Telling somebody the other day what I actually did when I lived half my life online, I realised that my experience of the www is almost exclusively social. In the last ten minutes, I've laughed with happiness at an unexpected email, and been moved by Tom's everyday story of Saturday, skies and beauty. This rambling, undirected story is about as far from a pub conversation or earnest late night chat as you can get, but it's closer to the real, deep Tom than either of those. That this medium encourages stories that touch is wonderful. And maybe that's my cathedral, right there.