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The week ahead, the day today. Got word from a very old Kiwi friend coming down for a few days in Amsterdam round about the same time an Aussie friend is staying with me for the U2 shows. Both of ‘em sort of came over to Europe to see the band and never left, making Europe a little richer with their presence. Take it from me, we all need an Aussie/EnZed presence in our lives.

That’ll be Antipodean week then. Tihrruhfuc! It’ll be a good time to reminisce about the old days and the fun we had during the Lovetown tour, Zooropa, PopMart, Elevation… christ, it’s growing up with U2.

Feeling iffy about going to Paris tomorrow and completely drained from yesterday’s horrific events in London. I text my worries into space and get an instant booster: cliches and kisses from my own… personal… Jesus.

Party scene. Crowded. He brings her in, comes over, kisses me while she avoids me. They sit down at the table behind me. I can hear them fight.

“I can’t do it with HER here,” she says and I turn around.

She is laid out on a silver plate. Her hair is done up and wrapped in a black nylon balaclava like the queen in Disney’s Snow White. Her neck is Modigliani-long. From the shoulders down she is… fish. Sashimi. Glittering cuts of silver and blue herring.

I wake up.

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