I'm writing at eight o'clock in the morning. Tonight is the bubble party. I haven't gone to bed tonight also. I've not written shit in days, but the plan is there. Plus I'm not too concerned about it. There's been an intense online poker session; during which I cane out about $3 up and watched Stardust and Good Night, And Good Luck. That's a good five hour session at least.
I've also done some research which involved message/chatting up some rather attractive girls from around Falmouth. Before the epic poker session I played (or DJed at least for the last half hour. And that was after the Woodlane poker final, that I made a deal in the final three (which took a good four-plus hours). I'm a bit tired now.
Yeah, no more witty lines for today/night.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
I knew as I was writing last night about finding direction and being slightly productive that it would be a short term thing. It's not that I've done nothing today. I've come up with some things, just not very big things, clever things or many things and it has all been done at quite a slow pace.
There was a reason I set my alarm for 12.30 last night. I wasn't sure what it was, but I did it anyway. At 12.30 I rolled back to sleep. Twenty minutes later there was a knock on my bedroom door. 'Hello, we're here to do a viewing. Are you decent?' That was it. Having barely any clean clothes and no underwear to my disposal, I threw on a hoodie and a pair of ill fitting jeans and escaped to the living room. After fixing breakfast and showing some latecomers around the house (still dressed quite badly), I received a text as I was putting a laundry load on. 'Do you fancy a jam?' It asked. 'Only if I can bring my dis and my guitar' I replied. 'Yes and yes', was the response. Cool, I thought. It's only 2pm and I can get to work, as opposed to the usual start twelve hours later in the day.
We played guitar for about an hour or so and thoughts of writing subsided. So when the idea of going for a pub dinner came up I willingly obliged. Then the opportunity to go spinning staffs and playing a bit more arose. I took that option too. Tired from the most exercise I've had in about a month, I went round to another friend's house for a cup of tea and a cigarette or three. I got home after 11 and tried to get to work. Then it was twelve. One soon followed and I found myself watching the Late Night Poker final (which to my shock was only the first bloody half, I'll have to tune in next week!). So now it has gone three and I've done a tiny bit of reading. I need to be up at ten to show my tutor what I've done. I can explain the re-shuffle of my plans for the dissertation, but I don't think he'll care about that. He wants to see work I think. So do I.
There was a reason I set my alarm for 12.30 last night. I wasn't sure what it was, but I did it anyway. At 12.30 I rolled back to sleep. Twenty minutes later there was a knock on my bedroom door. 'Hello, we're here to do a viewing. Are you decent?' That was it. Having barely any clean clothes and no underwear to my disposal, I threw on a hoodie and a pair of ill fitting jeans and escaped to the living room. After fixing breakfast and showing some latecomers around the house (still dressed quite badly), I received a text as I was putting a laundry load on. 'Do you fancy a jam?' It asked. 'Only if I can bring my dis and my guitar' I replied. 'Yes and yes', was the response. Cool, I thought. It's only 2pm and I can get to work, as opposed to the usual start twelve hours later in the day.
We played guitar for about an hour or so and thoughts of writing subsided. So when the idea of going for a pub dinner came up I willingly obliged. Then the opportunity to go spinning staffs and playing a bit more arose. I took that option too. Tired from the most exercise I've had in about a month, I went round to another friend's house for a cup of tea and a cigarette or three. I got home after 11 and tried to get to work. Then it was twelve. One soon followed and I found myself watching the Late Night Poker final (which to my shock was only the first bloody half, I'll have to tune in next week!). So now it has gone three and I've done a tiny bit of reading. I need to be up at ten to show my tutor what I've done. I can explain the re-shuffle of my plans for the dissertation, but I don't think he'll care about that. He wants to see work I think. So do I.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Once again I find myself at my mate's at gone 2 o'clock in the morning. Not an uncommon occurence on a Monday night (or any other night considering my recent drinking patterns). This time however, I am working again. Or at least not right now, I need to escape from it for a few more minutes. Just tap out some words that flow easily from my head, instead of braining over every sentence, then double guessing its delivery and relevance. (Although I've just re written the last bit of that sentence to make it sound better.) I feel once again some direction in where it is going, but I thought that the other night and earlier this evening found myself at a dead end (hence the trip here).
The bloody storm is playing havoc with the internet, phonelines must be down or something. Some sites I just can't seem to connect to. The infallibility and omnipotence of the tinterweb seems somewhat diminished tonight.
Whilst changing my Facebook status (as you do when you're avoiding work) to my current situation of slowly getting work done, but being delayed by the storm (in access to websites, as opposed to leaves on the line or some shit) I had to check the spelling of the word 'blaming'. That's what happens when you spend so much time thinking too much, you forget how to spell simple words. Anyway, I clicked into my Word window and wrote the word 'blaming'. It happened to land in the sentence: 'They can profitably produce publications for quite small groups of blaming people whose shared interest may be as obscure as smoking cigars (Cigar Afficionado) or keeping carp (Koi Carp)’ . Well, it made me chuckle. God, I have been writing too long.
The bloody storm is playing havoc with the internet, phonelines must be down or something. Some sites I just can't seem to connect to. The infallibility and omnipotence of the tinterweb seems somewhat diminished tonight.
Whilst changing my Facebook status (as you do when you're avoiding work) to my current situation of slowly getting work done, but being delayed by the storm (in access to websites, as opposed to leaves on the line or some shit) I had to check the spelling of the word 'blaming'. That's what happens when you spend so much time thinking too much, you forget how to spell simple words. Anyway, I clicked into my Word window and wrote the word 'blaming'. It happened to land in the sentence: 'They can profitably produce publications for quite small groups of blaming people whose shared interest may be as obscure as smoking cigars (Cigar Afficionado) or keeping carp (Koi Carp)’ . Well, it made me chuckle. God, I have been writing too long.
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