Hello all. Things have
been quiet lately. Too quiet for my
liking. I’ve been dying, in a sense. Dying as in getting older, and slowing
down. Don’t worry (or clap), it’s not terminal. Just something we all go
through when approaching our late thirties, I assume. Still, it’s no excuse.
There’s never any excuse for not
writing (apart from maybe having no fingers). Anyway, I’ve been to a writing
class tonight, and because I’ve not attended that particular group for
absolutely ages, it seems to have had the desired effect. I’m now determined to
compile and self-publish a book of shorts I’ve been working on for the last two
years or so. It wouldn’t have occurred to me otherwise. They would have gone on
sitting there on my flash pens if not for tonight’s class. I’d say hard drive,
but baby, I ain’t got no hard drive.
My computer crashed. Is there any bigger hindrance to a so-called writer? I
lost heaps of work, because when it comes to backing things up, I’m about as
efficient at that as I am at doing the dishes, or changing the bed linen, or
paying the bills…which is not to say that I never do it, but that, if truth be
told, there’s sufficient room for improvement. So, a goal. I’ll give
myself a month to accomplish it. I’ve had no goals lately, nothing to aim for.
It’s been pure limbo. Then again, without a hard drive, I’ve only had the
pleasure of the television. The best thing I’ve watched lately was the Michael
Jackson night on Channel 5. I have to admit I was enthralled. I used to think
he wasn’t guilty but now I think he was. The plain fact is that none of us will
ever know. It’s a shame how he went from being the one and only Michael Jackson
who everyone loved into ‘Wacko Jacko’ with a load of question marks hanging
over him. Quite sad, really. What I’ll remember him for is wearing an umbrella
indoors, wearing his PJs to the courtroom, and dangling his baby out of a hotel
window. Not to mention his dance moves in those pop videos of his. The whole
sex charges fiasco is something his genuine fans wish never happened. It’s a
slur on the genius of his legacy. Apart from that I’ve
just had books to entertain me. I usually revolve between Herbert, Koontz and
King, because they’re reliable. I find it a risk reading a new writer because
some of them are bad. They start off promising but fade. I’m with Ian McEwan at
the moment. His style is of the utmost but his content is dodgy. He’s the kind
of writer who gets shortlisted for the Booker Prize, and crap like that. So
anyways, just thought I’d drop by. I’ll be back in a month with my new book of
shorts (it’s going to be called SHORTS), so you can hold me to my writing
goals. We do need goals, no matter how pathetically small. They get us through
the day.
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