Because it's the thirteenth day of Christmas...

On the twelfth day of Christmas, desperance sent to me...

Twelve mushrooms drumming

Eleven ghosts publishing

Ten pre-raphaelites a-writing

Nine cats reading

Eight androids a-cooking

Seven dragons eating

Six robots a-walking

Five gho-o-o-ost stories

Four new words

Three short stories

Two john barnes

...and a food in a string theory.

Get your own Twelve Days:

John Barnes? John Barnes? The footballer, or the novelist...?

And also...

In 2012, desperance resolves to...

Keep my sushi clean.
Ask my boss for a food.
Become a better taipei.
Go to the musicals every month.
Cut down on my eating.
Eat more magpies.

Get your own New Year's Resolutions:

Anyone would think I was obsessed or something.

Can you tell that I'm working?

Aaargh

I had a lovely morning dog-walking with one of my Simons, all over everywhere. And now I am exercised in body and in mind, and should be entirely ready to burn through my copy-edit over the weekend -

- and I have done less than ten pages and I hate the world and all that therein is and I have sworn at the cats and I am too going to do another ten pages before lunch and just don't talk to me, right?

My immaculate sense of timing, redux

The Chinese community in Newcastle wants to hold a regular open-air market, and is taking soundings from the populace.

Damn. I would love a proper Chinese market in Newcastle (I still pine for the night markets in Taipei), but I'll be in California by the time anything happens, if it does. Hey-ho. Just have to go to Chinatown instead, then...