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In the end I don’t care too much about getting carried away and making a fool of myself. The alternative is to die of boredom, the alternative is to be genial and pass the time, the alternative is to take a spoon to my brain and scoop it out, the alternative is to drink too much and become taciturn and twisted, the alternative is to not show up at all, and I’ve done all those things and getting carried away and making a fool of myself from time to time is, in the end, so much easier to bear.

Green is life is poison is sickness is peace is envy is fast is angelica is innocence is delirium is money is grass is chlorine is health is vomit is absinthe is tarnish is labyrinth is melancholy is nature is kryptonite is moss is gangrene is phantasmagoric is deceit is lush is infection is solitude is beginning is asparagus is putridness is secret is decay is spreading is tropical is nausea is mould is freshness is vitality is snot is lagoon is guilt is enchantment is mildew is vile is rampant is the colour of my ink yes, the colour of my ink, change, yes, instability, yes, life, life, yes, death, yes. Death. And the days, I write the days in green, and the things I need, the things I need—I write those in green too.