spend some time with you, I wanna do all I wanna do
2002-04-02 || 1:37 p.m.

I've been spring cleaning all morning. Yesterday I did the whole of the front room. This may not sound like much but you haven't seen the state of it. It's lovely now. I found some strange stuff rooting around. I've been middling to ruthless in my throwing out - nothing like five years ago when I had my crisis. Then I recycled my whole entire collection of 'Donald and Mickey' comics from my childhood. People said to me at the time I was mad (they were right); they said I should sell them, they were worth money etc. Fuck that. Recycle is the way to go.

I either have an extremely imaginative child or a seriously damaged one. I found some very strange instructions as to what you should do when you go to work written by Rebecca c.6 years old. Apparently you go to London, make a potion, feed it to your pets, they then vomit it up and you can carry on with your work!?! This was written at the same time that she wrote a poem called 'The Freshness' which basically was a reference to life and being alive. Imaginative, unique and fucking funny - that's Rebecca. Also shit hot at HTML. Thanks Bex.

Today I started on the kitchen. It is quite depressing cleaning black mould rot off of everything. It probably accounts for my chest problems. I've only done half the kitchen so far but I've talked to my plants (seriously) and Dylan ate a load of blue tac.

I had strange dreams again last night. Portentous almost but of that variety where you can't quite get a grip on what is happening or what they might be saying. Do you know what I mean? I also found it hard to sleep because I had a Marc Bolan lyric in my head that wouldn't go away and I was too catatonic to get up and work out which one it was.

I love physical labour especially when its got a purpose. I can understand why there used to be spring rituals.

I wish everything could be real.