Gathering a few morsels of substance here and a few there. Throwing them into my bag. Putting them together to make a self. Putting them together to make a respectable identity. I’m not nobody, I tell the universe defiantly, I’m a person of substance. I’m actually somebody. I’m me. I’m a real person. Defiantly reiterating the point as I attempt to glue together all the various mismatched morsels that I have gathered up in some kind of a fashion. Any kind of a fashion, really. Getting them to stick. Getting them to hold. Pointing at the miscellaneous collage of bits and pieces that I have managed to cobble together and yelling out defiantly this is me this is who I am if you don’t like it then you can just fuck off with yourself. I know what I’m at and so don’t give me any of your shit. You bastards. Cobbling it all together throwing it all together in whatever kind of a fashion I can manage. Trying to make a go of it, trying to make some kind of a statement. This is me, this is what I’m all about. Maybe open up a Facebook account. Fuck the lot of you. I’m like a spider trying to spin its web in the middle of a hurricane. Doing it and redoing it. Over and over again. Trying to spin the web that is me. Trying to spin the web that I’m desperately trying to pretend is me. Look, this is me, I keep saying. In the face of the wind. In the face of the hurricane. Keep on spinning. Make it work. Make it happen. Get the glue to hold. Keep on sticking it together faster than it can come apart again. Ravel it up faster than it can unravel. Blag it faster than I can be found out. Trying to stay on top. Trying to keep on top of a bad situation. Trying to keep the sunny side up. If there is a sunny side. Keep on juggling. I am the juggler – I’ve got twenty arms and I’m juggling, juggling, juggling. Juggling like a mad bastard. I’m trying to keep all my balls in the air. Trying to keep it all together, trying to keep the show on the road. Lost in the endlessly proliferating intricacies of my own desperately insane lies. Lies so badly put together that they barely even fool me. They actually wouldn’t fool me if I stopped to think about it. That’s why I don’t stop. That’s why I keep on spinning, spinning, spinning. That’s why I keep on juggling, juggling, juggling. Like some kind of a mad demented bastard.