(no subject)
Update on my existence:
Yesterday I went for coffee with Emma, which was great and involved a certain amount of shouting about overidentifying with terrible characters, and then everything else was absolute total and utter fucking shit and I have no idea why or how. The week after next Emma and I are going to to Dennis Severs' house in Spitalfields because I haven't been and I want to see the weirdy 17th-century house as much as the next hump. [I kind of miss looking at Tudor houses but there aren't any in London and the furious shark baby does not travel well].
Today Jess and I took the shit to the charity shop, finally. I spent the journey home fantasising about winning the lottery so that I can buy my own small fucking flat and start again in a more organised and less horrendous fashion that doesn't involve no proper storage space and having to navigate around other people who are either a) pathologically incapable of doing things to any kind of schedule or b) have their own ideas about how to organise things which they will impose without warning.
Sunday Jess and I are supposedly going for Georgian food for dinner (Lindsay is meant to come but of course arbitrarily decided to be AT WRESTLING on "designated spend time with your Boyfriend hour" because he doesn't give a fuuuuuuuck).
This morning I considered giving up my entire planned Do A Proper Plot With Proper Characters And Research novel series and devoting this November to writing TOTAL GARBAGE. I'm still tempted.
Yesterday I went for coffee with Emma, which was great and involved a certain amount of shouting about overidentifying with terrible characters, and then everything else was absolute total and utter fucking shit and I have no idea why or how. The week after next Emma and I are going to to Dennis Severs' house in Spitalfields because I haven't been and I want to see the weirdy 17th-century house as much as the next hump. [I kind of miss looking at Tudor houses but there aren't any in London and the furious shark baby does not travel well].
Today Jess and I took the shit to the charity shop, finally. I spent the journey home fantasising about winning the lottery so that I can buy my own small fucking flat and start again in a more organised and less horrendous fashion that doesn't involve no proper storage space and having to navigate around other people who are either a) pathologically incapable of doing things to any kind of schedule or b) have their own ideas about how to organise things which they will impose without warning.
Sunday Jess and I are supposedly going for Georgian food for dinner (Lindsay is meant to come but of course arbitrarily decided to be AT WRESTLING on "designated spend time with your Boyfriend hour" because he doesn't give a fuuuuuuuck).
This morning I considered giving up my entire planned Do A Proper Plot With Proper Characters And Research novel series and devoting this November to writing TOTAL GARBAGE. I'm still tempted.