25 December 2004
blessed be
My brother attacked me over a plastic toy and drew blood, the swine. It's like a Christmas Carol round our way, though the orphans have already died.
Loads of hunts kick off tomorrow near here (Avon Vale e.g.), should be a right kerfuffle this year. Posh and not-so-posh people getting all angry and violent, plus animals. It's like revolution, but, like, without the politics. There can be no politics in the country by definition (there's no polis!).
Anyway, must go and read some more of Sartre's Critique of Dialectical Reason. A pox upon both your houses.
