So it's 2.05AM Sunday 30th May 2004 and there's now less than a week to go. Surrounded by every increasing piles of discarded cardboard and plastic I stumble towards departure with an ever decreasing sense of reality. I remember once writing somewhere; "it never get's weird enough for me". I guess the words themselves don't mean much, it's what they're hotwired to, things words can't do by themselves, but it feels like I'm arriving at some kind of cut-off point, a point where it all comes down to throwing onself at the mercy of the elements, and trusting those that, one hopes, can safely navigate them. This is like my first solo expedition as a broadcast TV road warrior carrying all the battery chargers, spare clips plus all the junk you need to make you feel
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