Friday 13 June 1975
Walking along road. At corner, church on one side, David’s house on the other. I go to door. Music from church starts up. I get religiose feeling, wondering at the coincidence. All David’s family are dressed in rags and refuse to acknowledge David, rimless square glasses. Moles on face. I try to get in.
Next with some limp lady. Trying to fuck her. Through
glass in wall I still see David’s family. I close curtains. Moving back to joys
of knickers, people keep walking in to butter bread. I am annoyed. No, it was
poets they brought in to butter. Tennyson.
