Status

[desperance]

Oh, for fuck's sake. I am having a really hard morning here: didn't make it to the Lit & Phil (though I did actually leave the house to do so; ten minutes later I was home again), have struggled to grind out a page and a half and was just thinking maybe I could tip it over to the third page and end the chapter when the Mighty Metal Percussion thundered into action.

There's a vast container lorry parked on the pavement directly outside my house. Been there a couple of hours, just sitting; but I guess it's broken, because now someone is thumping on it, irregular patterns with something heavy that makes the whole damn thing resonate. I shall go mad, and squat in the fireplace with ashes in my hair. That'll help.

Comments

[fastfwd.livejournal.com]

Hey, that always works for me. (Don't forget to be naked.)

[gillpolack.livejournal.com]

It only works if you have a black quill and paper - then words flow. Dark, dark words.

[martyn44.livejournal.com]

You could always set the boys on them . . .

[gauroth.livejournal.com]

An old 'I'm Sorry I'll Read That Again' joke:

A man was sitting in the fireplace. It was Sherlock Holmes.

"Aha! The grate detective!"