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.