Been away from the Pundy House. Not far. Just around the corner in fact, in a dark place.
Everything's changed. Miss the old days, the thrill of the new, the buzz. All the laughs we had. What laughs! The parties! My God, the parties. Like Gatsby. Shut the fuck up the mansion and went away. Wandered lost in the real world. Still never found what I was looking for.
Turned off the Comments. Not ready to perform. Need to sharpen up my act. First night nerves and all that. Nothing much more to say really. You can see the difference, can't you. Shame, could have been a pretender. To the throne. Hah! That got you. Didn't it? No? Need to sharpen up the act. Find the old magic. Sing for my supper.
The place is empty, full of ghosts. Draughty too. Smell the dampness, the rotting brains. When Winter comes can the long dark night of the soul be far behind. Open the windows, tear down the dust sheets, put the kettle on, wipe away the tears. I'll be alright, don't worry about me. Oh yes, I'll get there in the end. Nothing surer.
Do me a favour though, don't look for answers here. Not yet anyway. Let me get the sanatorium cleaned out first.