(no subject)
So, I've spent most of the day not doing very much; I slept for about six and a half hours and woke up for no discernable reason at around about eight, and then looked at my clock at ten and twelve, and then got up. I spent a while reorganising my bookshelf, which involved stealing a shelf from the identical bookshelf upstairs and shifting most of my hardbacks onto the top of the bookshelf because I didn't have any tall shelves high enough any more and it gave me more space. I now have enough room to put all of my books on it rather than having them scattered on the floor and on my desk and by the side of my bed, but I also now have gaps on my shelves, which somehow just feels wrong. I also have lots of junk on my floor for some reason, which I shall endeavor to move before going to bed; and I also have a shelf entirely comprised of books that I have not read yet, because I thought that purplefringe's idea was a good one and thus stole it.
Apart from that I've really done very little all day; I read a bit (Book # 28 was Tim Burton's The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy: And Other Stories, which I picked up a while ago in HMV - they often have rather good books in there, although their selection is a little ecclectic - which was bizarre and strange and fun) and went driving and delivered some leaflets and sat at the computer and forgot to watch the eclipse.
I'm sure that I was going to post something interesting here, but I can't for the life of me remember what the hell it was.
Ah, yes, that's it; I also spent some time researching things like death and theatre and identity for something I'm writing, and have come up with not-very-much. If anyone has any bright ideas, I'd love to hear them - anything from theatre-slang for 'an actor whose character is dead crawling off stage after the lights have gone out to make ready for the next scene' to details about those islanders who thought that when someone took a photograph of them they stole a fragment of their soul; anything.
Also, pleezpleezme has decided that she is going to get me drunk. Oh dear.
Night night.
Apart from that I've really done very little all day; I read a bit (Book # 28 was Tim Burton's The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy: And Other Stories, which I picked up a while ago in HMV - they often have rather good books in there, although their selection is a little ecclectic - which was bizarre and strange and fun) and went driving and delivered some leaflets and sat at the computer and forgot to watch the eclipse.
I'm sure that I was going to post something interesting here, but I can't for the life of me remember what the hell it was.
Ah, yes, that's it; I also spent some time researching things like death and theatre and identity for something I'm writing, and have come up with not-very-much. If anyone has any bright ideas, I'd love to hear them - anything from theatre-slang for 'an actor whose character is dead crawling off stage after the lights have gone out to make ready for the next scene' to details about those islanders who thought that when someone took a photograph of them they stole a fragment of their soul; anything.
Also, pleezpleezme has decided that she is going to get me drunk. Oh dear.
Night night.