Jeremy’s Journal

West of the Cloisters born and raised…

Monday: Chillin’ out.

Tuesday: Maxin’. Relaxin’.

Wednesday: A couple of students, up to no good, stole my fucking head and were shooting b-ball with it.

Thursday: I got into one little fight, and Consuela got scared, she said ‘Jeremy you’re 264 years old, sort it out.’

Friday: I whistled for a cab, and when it came near, the licence plate said ‘Benth’ and there were Utilitarian values in the mirror.

Saturday: If anything I could say that this cab was rare but I thought ‘nah forget it’, I left my wallet in the Print Room.

Sunday: I look out at my Kingdom and I’m always here, sitting on my throne, as the Prince of that bit of the South Cloisters.