God looks like a guidance councillor God's got that smile
I started reading Robinson by Chris Petit. It's probably a bad idea to read half a book about seedy London, pornography, drunkenness, voyeuristic dwarves, and second-hand book dealing right before sleep. My dream did not feature any second-hand books. I spent all of my working hours yesterday reading about European history on Wikipedia. Those zany Prussians! I've written slightly over 3000 words of my NaNoWriMo novel. I should be finished by late February! I should probably have chosen to write some more Doctor Who fanfic (I wrote 4200 words in 2 days of that earlier this year, pfft) rather than anything set in The Exciting World Of Accountancy, which does not even mention Kylie Minogue. I really can't be bothered writing anything here or anywhere else, though. Who needs to communicate or write stuff? Other human beings do not exist. Still, I shall go do NaNo research (i.e. drive round a soulless new town in central Scotland while feeling miserable.) Is it unreasonable to not answer your phone to your stepmother when you are standing in the middle of a crowd in a noisy club/venue? I spilt bleach on my bath mat. It is an interesting red colour on one edge.