Evening friends. I thought it would be more appropriate to write a more up to date log as well as presenting you with my rather morbid and lovecraftian journal entries.
Today has progressed with a certain gothic charm, not far removed from the original zombie movies of the 1970's. I currently reside near Canary Wharf, and area so heavily populated with the mindless drones of central london's most prestigious souless corporations that often it is hard not to be sucked in by their incurable malady. As i paced my way back to the bar i attempt to manage i noticed with a rather moribund facination that everyone walked in the same rhthym, the same blank expression on their city carved faces. It was as though a superior being (probably Bill Gates or Alan Sugar) had sucked the soul from each and every one of them leaving them nothing but canvasses, created for the profitablity of capitalism. I have no issue with these men and women making money and living their lives but it begs one question; if they are all so very dissillusioned with the state of their being, as they appear to be, why do they continue to put on the same pin striped suit every day? (I of course wear the same suit everyday, but that is only because i can't afford to buy a new one!)
The reason i have entered into this particular diatribe is because i deeply care for a friend of mine, more than i think he realises and every day he goes to work, weeps into his coffee and promotes something he doesn't believe in, in a manner he doesn't believe in. This is a man with so much soul and passion and intellect, so many dreams and visions that it destroys me to see him so lost, so unhappy. But what tethers him to his current existence at 23? Stablity? The simple life. The whole notion rests before me encased in a large question mark.
I think i may have run out of steam and as the sun sets as does this particular issue.
Love, good luck and a smile to each and every one of you.
Quoth x