So then it's my birthday again, happy, happy, but not so very happy. Another night; gonna try to sleep, even if something tells me I'm not going to, but maybe, didn't sleep so well last night, not at all, until it was morning, then I could sleep when I should've done some important stuff, but that's the way it is. I don't care so much about birthdays - at least not mine - but since I woke up I have been thinking a lot about this one, maybe just because I feel sorry I can't do anything that amuses me. I've been thinking of the last years birthdays and what I did that date. I must admit that it still feels strange not being married sometimes, and definitely it feels strange this strange day. From last year I cant remember much, got drunk (and then I mean drunk), was sitting at the usual place and Petra and Pelleport and Boel was there, don't remember so much more. The year before I had spent the night with Boel at her place (a sleepless night, but it seemed very important to me to have sex on that very special birthday), in the morning she gave me a ride to the studio, I had invited people to come there about 7 or 8 in the evening (I think it was the first time I invited people, I prefer not to tell anyone that it's my birthday - but now I do, and I don't care so much about that anymore; birthdays has always been a perfect reason to leave town incognito) so I took some pills to get asleep for some hours, bad idea, woke up after 6, intended to buy a lot of wine for my guests, but it was a little late for that then; anyway it ended up neat, people brought a lot of wine and such things with them, I even had a lot left when the last guests had left (and me and Boel and John of Finland went out to visit some bars). Then there's my terrible birthday 2003, started OK, Nina took me to a café - that was nice I admit - but then I went down to my studio, no money, noone phoned me, I was staring at the ceiling for the rest of the day, hungry and abandoned. I've seen better days, I tell you. And then the most irritating thing of them all, one or 2 days later I discovered I had money on my account, I could have done something better than suffering in the batcave. And the year before Helena took me to an indonesian restaurant in the evening, we (or rather she) had already decided to divorce so it felt a little strange, but I tried to taste as much as I could of our last time together. The years before that I can't remember, my head was quite dizzy for some years, especially between 1998 and 2001. Well, happy birthday to me (I suppose). Think it's time to try to sleep for some hours, but I have been stupid enough to chase away my sleep again; anyway, I can always watch TV, just have to write some stuff so I will not forget them...

Morning, didn't sleep at all, too much of everything and too worried about money; so my dear landlady served me breakfast that will activate me (I hope) and now I drink some coffee and smoking cheap cigarettes. People serve me strange things on my birthdays; like that time in Paris when I turned 30; when I finally opened my eyes that morning Helena put a Lucky Strike in my mouth, poured me a glas of pastis and started to perform that strange rite that enlightened people talk about as "fellatio" (or "fellation", in this case performed by a "fellatrix", &c., &c., &c.) and other people refer to as...whatever. But I've already told that story in an exhibition catalogue (and when I wrote it I had even less intentions to tell that story than I have now). Maybe it's so that sex is an essential part of our lives! Yeah, must be, why should I otherwise mention it at all? Does the shadow of Sigmund Freud still hover above us, we mortal scum who soil this earth during our lamentable struggle (sleeping, eating, fucking, whatever, not to forget consume alcohol, have intercourse and to take a ride in the elevator) for showing us worthy a place in heaven, maybe not in the quarters where the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit dwells but at least as far from the infernal torture chambers where sodomy and depravity is as common as the first cigarette you light with trembling hands as soon as you wake up way too early in the morning (just to realize that the nightmares you just thought you had escaped are still there, and they are even more horrifying 'cause you know they're for real this time)... Phoned Tony, haven't seen him for a very long time; now I have to make some other calls so that I may be able to heal my tormented soul, distressed and wretched by a society I've never been part of. Fuck... Tried to make some more calls, running out of hope (and mind), and now I'm tired, but no time to sleep, and I don't want to (and I suppose I can't either), nerves like nylon, nerves like...crap!!! And where's Baudelaire when I desperately need him?! Went out on the balcony, it's warm out there, finally, and now I will go and check if there's money on my account...

Here comes the dark, I feel a little better, maybe I'll survive another day. Kiss Paris from me...