I will sleep a lot That’s what I’m telling myself Three day weekend y’all N.B. I mean Jesus, what is it with my recent unrelenting dependence on unconsciousness? I seem to be stuck in permanent post-Christmas lunch hangover mode. What the hell?
This is how I found out that the rubbishing was fully in charge of my mind and body. Up until this point today I believed that all the yawning and air-staring was circumstantial to my being indoors when it was all leaf-glow dapple-shade sun immensity outside. But oh no. Turns out there was a price to pay for running round like a goon and thinking I could get away with
Sleep is speckled grey It smells like last night’s sleep It tastes like bacteria It sounds like the day’s last echo And feels like happy oblivion It lives in waiting
When writing plot I find it can be beneficial to consider the stories of those films I love. Often you will see they have a simple premise that can be easily described. Sometimes a useful exercise is to try and write a concise summary of a film’s story, which can give you an appreciation of its essential elements. Some examples then: Almost Famous Wayward sluts rob minor of his virginity. Amelie Scheming loner resorts to sabotage, mind
Finally, I’m equally terrible at giving directions to drivers. As soon as a vehicle creeps to a stop next to me I know I’m about to be tested. Either I will be black-bagged and thrown in the boot and driven to a moor somewhere (it’ll be a long drive, I don’t think I live near any moors. Sensible geographic settlement on the part of my parents really, in terms of