The corner of the ceiling.

I'm in a really filthy mood, very irritable, furious, combinations of things have me ready to commit murder. I left Sydney for Wollongong but was unable to meet former flatmate - the hostel turned out to be University accomodation and I spent two days walking the town, staring at breezeblocks or throwing things at the roaches that chased across the floor. A grinning man watched me eat my dinner and I was convinced he was about to take out a knife. I went to see two Japanese movies in Sydney - 'Ghost Train' scared me senseless though it wasn't especially good and 'Neighbour No.13' was exceptional stuff. I saw 'Borat' and the new Bond and found them both highly unsatisfactory. Either they showed the reels in the wrong order or there was some very dubious editing going on in the poker scene. Grinding teeth and clenched fists! It makes no sense to do things like this. (Though keep an eye peeled for second/half/not-quite-sure-what cousin Julian Sylvester's contribution to 'Casino Royale' - he's an animal wrangler in L.A., I guess he must have supplied the cobra and the mongoose.) England once again snatched defeat from the jaws of victory and all the Aussies gloated. In the supermarket today people did the unspeakable and hemmed me in to different aisles. I get horrible claustrophobia in supermarkets but this was worse than normal - it was like a concerted effort to deliberately trap me in Breads or Biscuits. Every time I approached a deserted area people would spring from nowhere with bad haircuts and hats and loud voices and fill the spaces around me. I was hemmed in by two women who ignored me utterly as I gestured for escape - one reported back on some gossip and the second dislocated her jaw in disbelief, an anaconda preparing to swallow some miscellaneous rodent. Flycatchers and grubby children. Banged on the hip by a basket - "Oh, sorry, was I in your way?" I was turned over again at the book exchange. I sold fourteen paperbacks for only $30 dollars, but I need to shed the weight. He had me and he knew it, smug in his bristly moustache and creaking chair. 'Underworld': 800 pages of proper good literatoor, boiling down to "America - hey, how about it? Eyyyy." I've read 'Of Mice And Men', 'Things Fall Apart', 'Lolita', and several others I can't even remember though I've sat here a full minute racking my brains for the names. I'm now in the YHA in Katoomba in the Blue Mountains. No sooner had I unpacked but I was turfed out of my bunk by a shifty guy with Marty Feldman eyes who claims to have been sleeping there all week. I pointed out that all the other bunks had dirty sheets and this was the only one stripped to the mattress; he looked at the corner of the ceiling and muttered things about the cleaners and some mysterious daytrip. I no longer feel like a millionaire after checking my bank balance in Sterling rather than Aussie dollars. A man on the train divided his time between yelling at girls and sitting sobbing. It's too hot. I need a shower. I don't know what to do. People keep sending me spam emails for Viagra. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! have prevented murder today.