So, this is what rock bottom feels like.

London, be good to me.

I'm running out of time, money, hope, and patience. I need a break, and I need it now.

Why did I drink so much and smoke so much?

And we talk about music and literature and the cinema, about people and places, foreign exploits, drug-benders and sexual misadventures. We talk about causes and lifestyles and the future, and about how open-minded we all must be to believe in both nothing and everything. And soon the booze runs out, and the cigs run out, and we go to bed feeling alone, no matter who is in our arms.