Day 135

Tonight you get just a general update. It’s been kind of a stressful weekend and I’m tired enough that I’m not going to Write Creatively. I have been meaning to get back to my Saturdaily Faux Landlords, but also I don’t quite have an idea for that right now.

We’re 135 days into the year, which bewilders me more than the lemon-meringue-pie tea I have seen in the supermarket. (Why do that? Is it like the flavour without the calories? Is it secretly just a pale imitation of the real thing? Anyone?)

Right now I feel a bit like something that crawled out of a low-grade low-budget vampire flick. Yesterday was my most boring day ever, in the history of my life. Like ever. Computer, iPod, reading, TV – the whole lot were verboten. I’m having a semi-Lacanian phase, which will be enhanced by this point tomorrow. I’m in the mood to be cryptic.

It’s raining right now. Heavy raining, the sort which should be accompanied by herbal tea and a good book.

I got that one thing which I wanted so dearly, that’s why I’m feeling Lacanian. It’s a good thing, better than I expected.

Work is good, now I’ve finished the training for that new Project-type thing. I expect to start on it proper next week. Writing is slower now, a random mish-mash of poetry and flash fiction. The novels have been tabled until all the other things slow down and go better. Right now I can’t do much more than I’m already doing.

Okay, I think that’s enough vagueness. Sleep calls.

Business as usual tomorrow.

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