It's a terrible thing, when your memories and your dreams and the poetry are all inextricably linked - but your memory fails you over and over again, and the poetry has left your life. What's left are the empty husks of dreams - Tuesday 8th April '03

I've lost it, slowly but surely. Each day I wake up and the sun seems to shine a little less brighter. And the words, the words have become banal, and commonplace - not that there's anything wrong with common-ess - but at the same time, common simple words and sentences seem hard to string together. Places I've been to have changed, and people I've known have passed and walked on by. True, there are still friends here and there, but somehow the laughter and the innocence have gone. It's emotional Alzheimer's.

"You've got to allow for people to change." I think that was one line in 'High Fidelity', which I've finally dug up and watched after having it collect dust for a few months in my cabinet. But sometime the change is not for the better.