Today's forecast: widespread meaninglessness.

These days I feel fragile like glass. Something in my molecular structure has changed and will never be the same again. I am quick to walk away from people and situations that bore me or annoy me -- and alas there seem to be plenty of both. I have no humor and no tolerance.
Everything hurts like a shattered eardrum. No one knows of the noise in my head, but it makes everything distant and unreal.

The world seems like what it is: an annoying temporary phenomenon, that everyone else takes seriously. It is not the world that pushes me to the brink, it is people's belief in it.

In years to come will they mark this as the time I began my decline? Before this: promising but eccentric, humorous but a little sociopathic, talented but without direction. After this time: disillusioned and moody, humorless and volatile, unfocussed and detached.

Reality gyrates between hostile and absurd. When it is hostile I strike back in a new and uninhibited way. When it is absurd I detach, alienating others who see it as vital, necessary, fascinating, challenging, beautiful, exilherating (fill in your own words).

I feel like I live in a Magritte painting. Everything has familiar elements but is vaguely threatening or downright ridiculous.

Here are two signs I photographed in London last week because they seemed significant. What are they trying to tell us?
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What happens if you walk into this "Institute"? Are you surrounded by people who tell you they love what you've done to your hair? Do perfect strangers tell you they have heard such good things about you? No, wait, that's complimentary with an "i." So what goes on in this place? It boggles the imagination.

And this! A masterpiece of vague innuendo! Its meaning will be pondered by scholars for millions of years.

This world is a gossamer thin illusion made by others, for others, and I fear I shall rip it if I move too fast or shout too loud. Then they will take me away as a danger to myself and others.

Lord. All my friends (all two of them) want to cheer me up. I've been told to get exercise. I've been told my mother wouldn't like me to be sad. I hear these little chirrups from far far away, but I think it is not my life they are hoping to improve. I would like to help them, I really would - but there is not much we can do for one another at such a great distance.
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Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more.
..... Virginia Woolf in the film "The Hours"