Sunday, July 25, 1982


Today Mum, seeing me writing, said: “I don’t know what you find to put in there. You never do anything do you?”

And with that, she sums up what, in various ways, I’ve been trying to say. I don’t have anything to write about. Notice how much space I’ve been taking up over the last month? Yet in that time, what have I done? I must write, do something. But it's so hard for me to maintain interest in any one thing.

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