Feeling a bit better, now. Doesn't feel like the inside of my head's exploding anymore, which is nice.

Everyone's so lovely here... Well, not lovely, but you know: sorted. Well, not sorted, but just good to be around. Naboo's sound as a pound, as ever (hope you're alright, mate, haven't seen you in a bit?), and Claire's Claire (girly, I can't ever thank you enough for coming to pick me up in that park) and even Ultra's started punching me in the face every morning. She says it helps the sinuses. She threw a cup at me when I suggested it was a sign of affection.

Been thinking. Been thinking why I went so... mental, that's the only word for it, isn't it? The whole Techno business and getting into it all over my head. Bit embarrassing, really, isn't it? You all do well to put up with me. Sorry, all. I suppose I could blame it all on the fire and the leg business (thanks, again, Naboo for that, I owe you them both), or on getting trapped on that tour before then, or various other things what happened this past year... But I don't think so.

Life never used to be this complicated. It never used to get me down or fuck me over... Well, it did, but it didn't matter because I was having fun. I'm not having fun anymore. I always feel anxious, or feel like I've done something wrong. I'm always worried about saying the wrong thing or fucking something up, and I just can't do it anymore, you know?

So I'm stripping it all back. That's it, now. No more fucking around. 

I'm going to move out of Naboo's as soon as I can and get my own flat off of the council, and I'm going to work at a shit job til I can afford my own decks again, and I'm going to just do what I love again. I've got so distracted, and I miss my music. Music makes me happy.

Bit of an essay that, innit? Now we know why I failed English. Still, what I'm trying to say and buggering up is this: the original Jones is back, and he has learned.

I HAVE LEARNED.

YOU CALL ME TECHNO.

It's raining, which is well rubbish... Not that I could go out anywhere - Nurse Hitler yelled at my today because I soaked my bandages while ironing... I'm not sure how that happened, either, but it did and she called me a stupid boy. You would have thought flinging water all over burns would be alright, wouldn't you?

It's not even fun to look outside the window anymore. Everything's gone grey and murky. Like a song or something, except everything's quiet.

Think I'm going a bit stir crazy, actually, being stuck in the house all day and everything... I'd be shit in prison, I know I would. I've worn out most of my CDs because I've without decks again and even if I had them I wouldn't be able to stand up long enough to bang out any decent tunes.

Dan's out somewhere, dunno where. I yelled at him earlier by accident (can't even remember why)... Silly, really, because he got cross and it just made my chest hurt a bit more, you know? Neon's not even here to entertain anymore, but I reckon that's a good thing... Not for me, but for her, of course! She doesn't like whining.

Also, I broke Christina, my favourite Barbie doll... I didn't know her head would come right off if I did that, did I?


Going to make myself the biggest, most ridiculously oversized coffee mocha-frappe-latte-chino, now... Caffiene makes me feel a bit sick at the minute, but I reckon this beast of a java explosion will be well worth it! Slap the sad off my face, anyway!

Are YOU up for it?

I'm a bit bored... 56 hours awake and in 'the zone' and I'm hitting one of those dips. Waiting for the cheap whizz to kick in.

Neon and Ultra are passed out and I've got nothing to do. It's pretty funny: you know, they look a lot less terrifying when unconscious. And I'm not going to say anything about dribble or nothing because they'll totally be able to read this when they wake up and I'd rather like to still have both my hands by the end of this writing session. They look well sweet, though, all curled up and colourful. Who would have thought it?

Life's alright, I suppose. Writing's going well: the electro girls are really a bit inspiring, they just go for whatever sounds right and I respect that. They force me to do it, too, and we're coming up with some good stuff! Sent that Brewstarr bloke an EP, but he ain't got back to me, yet. I don't reckon he will, after all. Perhaps all the musicing of the New Year was just a fluke that's run out. Perhaps I'm only good for once a year, when all over DJs are booked.

Saying that, though, Mr Yeah? and Mr Berry still keep me around, so I might not be that bad after all. And the girls threatened to cut my earlobes off if I didn't open the door and let them in to do some writing... I don't know. I'm getting a bit confused at the minute. I keep getting these terrible headaches. Dan reckons it's too much coffee, but I reckon that's bollocks because I've maintained the same levels of caffiene in my bloodstream since I was about 9, it's something else. I feel well sleepy all the time, too. It's fucking Dan off and it's starting to get to me, too. I dunno what's wrong.

I don't actually know where Dan is, actually. He's being a right narky bastard with me, lately. He keeps accusing me of stuff that I really don't think I did - can't remember doing, anyway. Paranoia central, him. I wouldn't mind so much if I'd actually done anything wrong, but he's winding himself up over nothing to do with me. Haven't seen him in a bit: he's spending a lot of time out the HoJ... 'working', he says. 

Anyone fancy doing anything tonight? Don't want to sound desperate or anything but.... okay, I am. I'm in the mood for a bit of company and quite happy to do anything you want. Chances are I'll have gotten out of this moody stuffs, because I can already start feeling the whizz on it's way. And the girls are shifting and kicking each other, and they don't tolerate self-pity.