Dearest family,
i am going for a holiday in outer space.i have only brought along my Alien Express card[don't leave home without it].please send along my power ranger things to:The International Pluto Complex,Ridiculous Speed Mail co.Just write my name on the parcel and they will know what to do.

tell the earth not to weep for me as i will only be gone for 100,000,000,000,000,000 billion snail years.you can visit me if you wish at:Gnes Ooj Universe Club.you can let those goo-for-nothings on your planet to use my things.But NEVER donate it to charity.may the Power be with you all.

your's ultra sincerely,
you-know-who

how bizarre.i stumbled on this note i wrote in p3 while going through my stuff. its shocking that i've wanted to escape since 95.thats like eight years of self-delusion that one day i will go away.perhaps i never will.and THAT LIST, its been stuck in my mind since the song.especially the backpacking part.we thought of taking a taking a train to bangkok where we'd be a-go-go dancers, going to bhutan where we'd introduce raving, going to goa and settle for half a year with a pink house over looking the sea and learning portuguese, going to teheran to engage in persian sexcapades preferably on a nice thick carpet, going to baghdad and then engaging in mesopotamian sexcapades, going to moscow to pretend to be american spies, going to istanbul and pretend we were separated in different continents, going to athens to learn greek, going to venice and poking holes in gondolas, going to florence where we'd protest against the renaissance, going to vienna where we'd play mozart on tambourines and castanets, going to berlin to continue destroying the existing parts of the berlin wall, going to amsterdam where we'd get addicted to drugs, going to london to maybe fall london bridge, ending up in paris penniless and earning our way out by drawing potraits or acting in french porn, con our way to iceland and lynch bjork, going to milan where we'd model the hippest designer threads, going to rio to step on jesus' feet, going to the carribbean to see big sex organs. it'd have been such a trip, and we'd fall even more madly in love. oh and we'd settle down in a nice apartment in queenstown in nz. THAT LIST. one day i'll orchestrate my own Great Gatsby, and i dont want fries with that dammit.