Two swallows? So not a summer...

[desperance]

Good creative yesterday; good morning today. Took the LHP to the Lit & Phil, ensconced myself in the Silence Room and wrote a couple of pages on the Alexandria story, rat-a-tat.

Came home for lunch, and - nothing. Well, one sentence, but it's a short one. My brick wall, let me show you it.

Also - or therefore, or because - I am in a pit of gloom, which is a gloomy place to be. It's been lurking for a while (hell, make that a long while), but I think it's delurked. The struggle, I fear, naught availeth.

I'm not hungry, but I'm cooking anyway: comfortfudz'r'us. Shredded pork chilli soup, then, with potatoes'n'carrots for rooty goodness, onions'n'garlic'n'leeks for allial value, tomatoes for vitaminic efficiency, and more chillies. That's more than my five-a-day, I think?

Also I bought salts. Two different kilos of Italian sea salt from their last artisanal pans, including the pope's salt, which it's good of him to share. These are the sorts of things we do when we worry about money, inter alia; and besides, I'm into the last half-kilo of my grey sel de Guérande, and it wouldn't do to be running out of the good stuff. Also besides, at times like this it's good to think long-term, and two kilos will see me through for a while...

Comments

[bluehairsue.livejournal.com]

HE's moaning because he had a good creative day yesterday and a good morning and the afternoon wasn't so full of writing. I'M moaning because I wrote absolutely no -- NONE -- words of fiction last week, I did about a squillion other things instead. MY brick wall, let me show you it. My un-naturally clean oven, let me show you that too, and the washed kitchen floor, and the lack of washing-up, and all the places where cat sick and old bits of bird used to be and are no longer... I *will* write. *Today*. *Honest*. I will IwillIwill...
Ghu! It's almost as difficult as getting myself to the gym!!

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Lessons in Life, no 1: there is always someone worse off than yourself.

Lessons in Life, no 2: all things are subject to change. I have been eyeing my preternaturally filthy oven with a tentative and prognosticatory gleam in my eye. I have very little further to fall; I fear, I greatly fear that there is scrubbing in my immediate future. And loud music, to which I will sing along. Some might mistake this for jollity, but we know desperation when we see it.

[kazdreamer.livejournal.com]

You amaze me with your culinary prowess! I am a complete waste of space in the kitchen. My ex-boyfriend ended up doing all the cooking... Hmm... Maybe that explains something! ;P

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Oh, cooking's just displacement, with the extra evil little seductive twist that I enjoy it. And I can never cook enough to grow weary of it, 'cos, y'know, there's only so much I can eat...

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

But there are so many others who will gladly eat your cooking...

(We looked for you in the Silence Room, but by then you'd gone).